


Darling, your looks can kill (so now you're dead)

by wasureukiyo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Developing Relationship, Drama, Family Drama, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Mutual Pining, Organized Crime, POV Iwaizumi Hajime, POV Oikawa Tooru, Porn With Plot, Protective Iwaizumi Hajime, Recreational Drug Use, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, Torture, Violence, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 49,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25397647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasureukiyo/pseuds/wasureukiyo
Summary: "Isn't this too intimate for our arrangement?" Hajime questions, carding his fingers through Tooru's hair."Maybe, but it's not like any of us is going to catch feelings, I don't plan to get more involved with the Yakuza world than I already am,"  Tooru replies.---Or in which Tooru is the son of the leader of the biggest Yakuza syndicate in Japan, and Hajime is the biggest contract killer working in the underground world.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 45
Kudos: 192





	1. A little death

**Author's Note:**

> HELLOOO!!  
> Haikyuu might be over (sobs) but my love for it will never be, hence I present you my biggest project yet! And it's Tooru's Birthday!! I really wanted to publish it today so here it is. Thank you for deciding to give it a chance and I really hope you like it, but FIRST! some:
> 
>  **DISCLAIMERS: (pls read them they're very important)**  
>  1\. Here is a [thread](https://twitter.com/wasureukiyo/status/1285425597997449216?s=21) on my twitter explaining the yakuza syndicates and organizations involved in this fanfic.  
> 2\. PLS READ THE WARNINGS, there is a lot of violence and smut in this, a lot, so reader discretion is advised.  
> 3\. This is not 100% accurate! it's a mixture of what I have investigated about organized crime in japan and pure fiction from movies.  
> 4\. I haven't written smut in YEARS, so sorry if it's bad, I'll get better at it as we move on.  
> 5\. Many chapters are song-based so I would highly recommend listening to the song, but that's only if you like to read with music.
> 
> That's it! Now enjoy! and thank you for reading!! This hasn't been beta'd btw so sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> Song: A Little Death - The Neighbourhood (Title also inspired by the song!)

Tooru stares back at his reflection in the mirror, neon eyeliner in hand. He leans in to get a better view of his face. With a swift flick of his wrist, he draws a straight line from the middle of his lower lash line to the outer corner of his eye. Tooru repeats the same on his other eye and steps back, admiring his work. With a satisfied sigh, he caps the eyeliner and turns around to his wardrobe.

Generally, Tooru prefers less bold looks, but tonight was special. He had to stand out.

The first semester of his final year in med school had finally come to an end. Shifts in the hospital he was interning it had been very hectic as of this half of the year, and despite not having an official title as a doctor, Tooru had aided through more emergencies than he could count. Despite being number one in his year, Tooru was well aware he was no genius. So to keep his position, his effort was doubled in comparison to the rest of his classmates.

To any _outsider_ , Tooru was a successful and young socialite. Aspiring to become a doctor at one of the country’s best universities. He was viewed as charming, kind, hardworking, and talented. It was normal for Tooru to constantly find himself surrounded by people.

To any outsider, Oikawa Tooru was what everyone wanted to become.

It was funny, considering Tooru’s true background.

In contrast, to any _insider_ , Oikawa Tooru wasn’t a wonder. Only a spoiled brat who got away with what many could only dream of. Perhaps achieving dreams was the only thing in common both sides associated Tooru with.

The Aobajohsai-gumi was widely recognized, as well as the biggest crime syndicate running in Japan. It was only heard of among the public, yet very few knew the actual masterminds who ran it.

To any _outsider_ , the Oikawa family was rich, owner of several enterprises. To _insiders,_ the Oikawa family was the spawn of the devil, the people who ran the feared Aobajohsai-gumi, led by the _Oyabun_ Oikawa Tatsuo.

Tooru thought it was hilarious how he was venerated in university even though he was the son of one of the biggest criminals in Japan. And perhaps, some considered him a criminal too. However, belonging to a Yakuza family had several perks, as well as consequences. Tooru deemed it a miracle the moment his father had agreed to allow him to step off the family business to become a doctor. But Tooru also knew this was only the eye of the storm because, throughout his whole life he had been shaped around the syndicate, it was only a matter of time before his father decided to pull him back into the business. 

Despite his upbringing, Tooru wasn’t a violent person, he hated death hated the putrid smell of iron that seemed to follow his family like a cloud of smoke. It reminded him of darker days and suppressed memories he would rather let rot away. He had made a vow, several years ago under a crying sky, that he would protect life. And here he was, months away from making his dream come true.

Which is why right now, Tooru searched through his wardrobe for a proper outfit. After the blur of shifts and emergencies that had been the past few weeks, the only thing Tooru wanted right now was to have a good night out. He pulled out several pieces of clothing, inspecting each of them and making up outfits on his head. Usually, Tooru preferred going out with his friend and kouhai Yahaba Shigeru, but tonight he had deemed it ‘me time’, and no one was going to get in the middle of that.

Tooru settled on a loose, white, satin, short-sleeved button-down. It was one of his favorites, more on the feminine side with its see-through quality. Tooru loves to dress to impress, and his plan was to get laid tonight. He just needs a way to release stress, which is why he has to make sure he looks his best. He pulls out some black jeans and shoes, changing into his outfit and checking himself in front of the mirror. With a satisfied smile, he pulls on a dark hoodie, careful not to mess his hair. He grabs his _other phone_ , keys, and wallet, and walks out of the apartment.

Before, sneaking out of his place without one of his bodyguards noticing and snitching on him was a tricky situation, but with time, he had found a way that so far had been infallible. Tooru knows that is probably dangerous to wander alone at night, especially in areas like Shinjuku where underground activities were at its best, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He also had to buy an extra phone after finding out through his best friend Hanamaki, that his phone was being tracked. His father’s controlling nature had forced him to find his own methods of freedom without having someone look out for him 24/7.

Tooru hops on the elevator and presses the button for the fifth floor. The condo was nice, with several services offered on the first five floors. The fifth floor held a small Family Mart which, in Tooru’s humble opinion, sold the best milk bread. But it wasn’t the milk bread what he was interested about. Tooru walks through the doors of the shop, heading straight to the counter where he was received by a bright-haired clerk.

“Ah good evening Oikawa-san, what can I help you with today?” The male asks, propping his arms on the counter and leaning towards Tooru. He eyes the other male knowingly.

“The usual Shou-chan,” Tooru replies with a subtle smile. Hinata nods and moves to let Tooru behind the counter, guiding him to the back door. Once there Tooru takes off his hoodie and fixes his hair in front of a mirror. He takes out his wallet and pulls out a couple of yen bills, handing them to the younger male.

“Here, treat yourself to something nice Shou-chan,” Tooru tells him, walking over to the employee-only elevator, “thanks as usual.”

“Looking good Oikawa-san,” Hinata comments, offering the other a bright smile. Tooru winks at him and steps on the elevator, “have a great night!”

Tooru waves him off as the door closes. The good thing about living in an area controlled by his father’s syndicate was that it was safe, which meant there were only two bodyguards posted at the entrance of the condo. This allowed Tooru to sneak out through the employees-only sections of the place. He couldn’t do it without the help of Hinata though. So, after befriending the orange-haired male, coming up with a valid excuse as of why he had to sneak out, and offering a small reward, he could easily go out every weekend or so. He wasn’t too fond of lying to his father, but Tooru knew he was old enough to take care of himself.

\---

Tooru walks through the entrance of his favorite nightclub, greeting the bouncer with a nod and a smile. Kabukicho was lit up at these hours of the night, and since it was Friday, everything was livelier. Groups of people walked through the streets, slightly intoxicated, or on their way to be so. Inside the club it was no different, heaps of bodies slid against each other on the dance floor as ultraviolet lights shone upon them. The lights make Tooru’s shirt turn a soft shade of purple and his makeup pop off. It was what Tooru had been aiming for, to beckon his surroundings for attention at something unattainable. The music is vivid, creating a slight vibration that makes Tooru’s blood spike with anticipation. He slides his way through the crowd, heading straight to the bar in hopes of getting some alcohol in his system that could last him through the night. It is more packed than usual, which didn’t surprise Tooru at all. ‘Erotica’, as the club was called had been gaining popularity through the past months, attracting a large group of new clientele.

Part of Tooru thinks it is a shame, he had been hoping that the club remained as his little secret for more time. The other part is delighted because more people meant a bigger pool of fish to pick from. What makes Erotica better than other clubs, besides its amazing service, is the atmosphere it creates. Just like its name, the air is constantly charged with some energy that makes it all the more appealing to take someone home. It is what Tooru usually aims for. Nevertheless, tonight, he wants to be the one to be taken home.

He reaches the bar at the center of the club, a round area surrounded by stools. It provides easy access to the dance floor and vice versa. Scanning around, Tooru quickly spots the young bartender working at the counter, through the past months Tooru had frequented the club enough to be considered a regular. Despite being younger than him, the bartender, Kindaichi, had quickly gained Tooru’s favor. He was mildly awkward, yet unbelievably good at his job. It is one of the main reasons Tooru only frequents Erotica on Fridays. Tooru takes a sit on the stool in front of the younger boy, propping his elbows on the counter and resting his chin on his open palms.

“Kindai-chan! How’s my favorite bartender doing?” Tooru calls out, cocking his head to the side in a teasing manner. He is comfortable enough around Kindaichi to allow his guard to fall a little. Kindaichi regards him with his smile, hand busy at cleaning a few glasses.

“Good evening, Oikawa-san, I’m good thanks for asking,” Kindaichi answers, setting down the glass before picking up a new one, “and as far as I know, I’m the only bartender you interact with.”

“Well, that’s because you’re the only competent bartender around him,” Tooru states, dismissively swatting his head. Kindaichi rolled his eyes. “and I’m terribly exhausted, university and all.”

“I can only imagine,” Kindaichi says with a nod, he sets down another glass, and walks closer to the counter, “what can I get you?”

“The usual Kindai-chan, a cosmos,” Tooru requests, taking out his wallet and sliding a card across the counter, one of the few Tooru’s father didn’t know about, “put it on the tab.”

Kindaichi nods and walks away briefly. Tooru turns around to inspect the dancefloor, eyes searching for a potential partner to spend the rest of the night with. It is quite hard, however, with the dim lights and blur of bodies swaying in rhythm with the music. Perhaps later, when he has enough alcohol in his system and decides to hit the dance floor, could he search for said person. Tooru rarely bottoms, not because he didn’t like it, but because he considers it better to not bare a vulnerable side of him. Today, however, he is very much in need of good sex. Stress had piled onto him for the past few weeks and perhaps getting fucked until he forgot his name could lift it off of him.

Kindaichi returns, handing Tooru his card back and setting down a glass with a pink liquid, topped off with a lime twist. Tooru wastes no time, picking up the cocktail and drinking half of it. The mixture of sweet, sour, and fiery alcohol running down his throat is a very welcoming feeling. It lets Tooru’s muscles loosen little by little, his mind beginning to slightly numb. It doesn’t get too much alcohol to allow Tooru to relax, but it does take a lot to get him drunk. It’s a blessing, years of family dinners with his father and guests had honed his ability to take alcohol in his system. He sets down the drink with a satisfied sigh, smiling at the expectant bartender at the other side of the counter.

“Perfect as usual, you truly are the best Kindai-chan,” Tooru compliments, raising the glass again to his lips and taking a smaller sip.

“I’m only doing my job Oikawa-san,” Kindaichi comments with an air of nonchalance. Tooru knows it’s for show though, being able to read people like open books allowed Tooru to realize how much Kindaichi likes hearing compliments. Lucky for him, his talent at mixing drinks allowed Tooru to give his most sincere praise at the younger’s work.

“Don’t be so humble, and I’ve told you to drop the ‘san’ already,” Tooru chastises, “so, got any juicy news?”

Kindaichi leans on the counter and thinks for a moment, eyes shifting to the side before getting caught on something Tooru is about to turn his head in the direction Kindaichi has been looking off to, but the boy’s head turns back to Tooru, a slightly mischievous smile grazing his lips.

“I can only say that it looks like you’ve got a fan,” Kindaichi declares, pushing himself off the counter and walking off. Tooru allows himself to look to the side and is caught in the gaze of another man, quite intense, but quite promising too. _Huh, interesting._ Tooru raises his glass towards the other guy and downs the rest of his drink, setting it down on the counter. He stands up and walks off to the dance floor. If the stranger wants something with Tooru he should come and get it.

Despite being packed, Tooru quickly fits himself in the crowd, his body moving according to the music. To Tooru, blending in with the people had always been quite easy. _As easy as breathing._ He lets himself get carried away, dancing around and reveling in the hungry stares of those surrounding him. It felt refreshing, boosted his ego to the sky. They can watch all they want, but they aren’t allowed to touch. Not yet at least, Tooru knows he still needs more alcohol to completely relax. Yet dancing, lost in between all those bodies and forgetting his responsibilities felt good, liberating.

After a few minutes, Tooru walks back, intending on downing a few more glasses of liquor into his blood. As the night drags on, things get more vivid and there is no way he’s going to miss the chance. Not with all the promising men he had encountered out there. Tooru had barely sat on a stool when Kindaichi placed another Cosmopolitan in front of him. Tooru gives him a grateful smile, immediately reaching for the glass.

“You know me so well Kindai-chan!” Tooru exclaims, raising the drink to his lips.

“Actually, this is from your admirer,” Kindaichi comments, giving Tooru an amused look. Tooru halts his movements, furrowing his eyebrows and setting down the glass. Tooru raises an eyebrow in question at the younger man, who just nodded his head to the side. Following his gaze, he was met with the stranger from before, sitting three stools to Tooru’s left. He is looking ahead, nursing his own drink, yet Tooru could see the man is aware of his staring. Tooru turns to look at Kindaichi.

“There’s nothing in my drink is there?” Tooru questions, his senses sharpening immediately. Kindaichi gives him an offended look before scoffing.

“Of course not, I made it myself,” Kindaichi defends, picking up more glasses to clean. With how packed the club is, it is surprising that the bar area is fairly empty, not that Tooru can complain. He isn’t overly fond of dealing with drunkards with shitty pickup lines and a breath that promised they were bound to throw up within the next half hour. “I wouldn’t risk getting on your family’s bad side.”

Tooru hums in agreement, Kindaichi had a point. If anything were to happen to Tooru, he knew his family would take care of it, as gruesome as it seemed it was something he had come to terms with long ago, which is why he’d rather be careful now than to drag people into an undesirable fate. Tooru regards the stranger once again, who meets his gaze this time, hazel eyes looking into his russet ones. Tooru can’t deny the guy is attractive, skimming into the circle that is Tooru’s type. He has tan skin, and brown, spiky, and quite messy hair that he somehow could pull off. His facial features were sharp, his eyes being probably his most distinctive feature. He wore a navy blue button-down; the sleeves were rolled up to reveal muscled arms. Seems like a promising guy if Tooru is being honest. With the way his clothes hug his muscular body in all the right places, if everything went smoothly, Tooru would be in for a good fuck.

“What can you tell me about Mr. Bara Arms,” Tooru asks Kindaichi, still looking quite skeptically at the drink he held. Tooru knows Kindaichi would never betray him like that, but there is always a seed of mistrust placed on Tooru, something years of the underground world had installed into him. Deciding to risk it, he took a sip. If anything were to go wrong, Tooru knew he could always call his sister.

“Well besides the fact that he’s a newcomer and that he’s very much interested in you, nothing else,” Kindaichi comments off-handedly, eyes focused on his current task, “you should probably go talk to him though.”

“Name?” Tooru inquires, he knows the chances of Kindaichi telling him were slim. Still, he decided to give it a try. Kindaichi only shook his head.

“Can’t tell you, club’s rules,” Kindaichi states. Tooru sighs.

“Well, wish me luck,” Tooru says as he stands up from his stool, picking up his drink to head over to his mysterious admirer, “thanks Kindai-chan.”

“Good luck Oikawa,” Kindaichi calls out, nodding at the older. With that, Tooru makes his way towards the stranger and takes a sit on the stool next to his.

“Hey,” Tooru greets, offering the stranger a flirty smile. He set his drink down, body slightly leaning towards the other, “Judging by how I’ve never seen you around I take it you’re new here.”

The stranger offers Tooru a smile in return, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. It makes Tooru’s skin prickle.

“Yeah, quite new,” The stranger answers, his voice is low, the alcohol making it sound rougher. Tooru bites his lips. This man is quickly checking all the boxes in his preference list and it is quite ridiculous. “I take it you’re a regular.”

“Ah yes, this is my favorite club actually,” Tooru informs him, picking up his drink and taking a sip. His eyes never left the stranger’s, challenging him into a silent dare. _Make it worth my time._ The atmosphere had started to build up in tension. “So, who shall I thank for buying my drink?” Tooru askes, his eyelashes fluttering lightly.

“Namikawa Koji,” the stranger supplies. Tooru almost believes him, but again, years under his father’s training had made him able to spot lies easily. Tooru picked up a hint of awkwardness in the way the stranger had spoken his name. _A fake name._ it set off a red flag on Tooru’s head. Despite it, he couldn’t help himself but feel intrigued by this stranger.

“And you?” the stranger asks, raising one of his eyebrows. Noting that perhaps revealing his last name as a link to his familial background isn’t the best idea, Tooru decides to forego his own name too. _Two can play this game._

“Higashi Aito,” Tooru states, and unlike the stranger, Tooru knows he is an excellent liar. He wouldn’t be sitting in the bar area of the club, behind his father’s back, with this handsome stranger if that wasn’t the case.

“So tell me, Higashi,” the stranger begins. It feels weird to be called that, but Tooru won’t allow the other to be at advantage. The stranger’s eyes slant slightly, lips curving into a coy smile, “what does a man need to do to take a pretty thing like you home huh?”

Tooru bit his lip and took another sip of his cocktail. He’s always liked confidence, and this man wore it pretty well.

“Well, the night’s still young and I’m very fond of dancing,” Tooru declares, drinking the rest of his cocktail, “perhaps you could join me.”

“Then lead the way, pretty boy,” Namikawa says, drinking the remains of his beverage and standing up from the stool. Tooru does the same and takes the stranger’s hands into his own to guide him. His hands were big, Tooru’s mind wandered off to what promising things those hands could do, if the night goes as he was planning it to.

“So, how old are you?” Tooru asks over the loud music, looking back at Namikawa with a mischievous smile. Namikawa smiles back, lifting a curious eyebrow.

“25. You?” He asks back.

“23! Good, you´re not too old,” Tooru states, tugging the stranger closer.

They make their way through the mass of bodies, squeezing until they reach the center of the dance floor, it is where Tooru knew he could show off. He pulls Namikawa towards him, hands settling themselves on the other’s shoulder. Namikawa’s hands immediately found purchase on Tooru’s hips, pulling him closer. Namikawa is slightly shorter than Tooru, but his physical build makes up for the lack of height. They both began dancing, bodies rolling with the music. Tooru takes a step closer, his hand sliding past Namikawa’s shoulders to roam his back and bring them back up. He feels the grip on his hips tighten up, making him smirk. In the span of the moment, Tooru turns around, pressing backward until his back was flushed against Namikawa’s. As the music drops, Tooru begins rolling his hips in a slow and teasing manner, he slides his hands up Namikawa’s arms, feeling the muscled flex underneath his palms. Shortly after, Namikawa begins rolling his hips in rhythm with Tooru’s. The air felt stuffed, sweaty bodies enveloped them and made them lose themselves among the crowd. The dim mixture of ultraviolet lights and slow music add to the sexual tension that had made itself present the moment Tooru had approached this stranger. One of Namikawa’s hands leaves Tooru’s hip in favor of sliding it up to his chest. It makes Tooru shiver lightly as his nerves buzz in anticipation. Namikawa takes ahold of Tooru’s chin, tilting his head so they could look at each other eye to eye. His eyes dart to Tooru’s lips and then back to his eyes, and silently asks for permission. Tooru bites his lip, before connecting their lips in a fervent kiss. Namikawa doesn’t waste time and swipes his tongue over Tooru’s bottom lip. Tooru opens up, his own tongue meeting Namikawa’s halfway. The kiss turns more desperate, as lips met each other again and again. Tooru’s arm reaches behind to grip Namikawa’s neck, his other hand placed over the hand Namikawa still had over his hips. Tooru grinds his backside against Namikawa, hard. He feels a groan ripple out of the other’s throat, it sends his nerves haywire with desperation and need. They pull away to catch their breath, lips barely touching as puffs of air emanate from red mouths. Namikawa licks his lips and moves his head until his lips graze over Tooru’s ear.

“How about we get out of here and I truly make it worth your while?” Namikawa whispers, breath ghosting over Tooru.

“I’d love to see you try,” Tooru taunts. He watches as Namikawa raises an eyebrow and smirks, silently accepting Tooru’s challenge. He takes Tooru’s hand and begins leading him out of the nightclub.

\---

Tooru pushes Namikawa against the door, closing it immediately. The other groans before being muffled by Tooru’s desperate lips. The taxi ride had been absolute hell, with tension intensifying by the minute, peaking the moment they reached their room at the love hotel.

Namikawa quickly switches their positions, successfully pinning Tooru against the door as the kiss escalated. He glides his tongue over Tooru’s lower lip, prompting the other to open up. Namikawa licks inside Tooru’s mouth, while the younger unbuttons Namikawa’s shirt with eager fingers, teasing the tan skin with soft grazes. They pull away, only for Namikawa to dive into Tooru’s neck, laying a row of desperate kisses, stopping to suck on pale skin, turning it purple.

Once Tooru finishes unbuttoning the shirt, he glides his hands up Namikawa’s torso to push it away. The older steps back, aiding Tooru and chucking the shirt somewhere across the room. In his dazed state, Tooru stares at Namikawa, his breath stops for a moment, taking in the expanse of inked skin.

Tooru may be studying to be a doctor but he would recognize those types of tattoos anywhere. A yakuza member, and by the looks of it, not one under his father’s syndicate. Otherwise, he would’ve recognized Tooru the moment he approached him at the club.

Tooru tries his best to mask his surprise as Namikawa dives in to kiss him again. He should pull away, invent some excuse to get out and go home. This was the type of situation Tooru liked to avoid because having sex with a possible-rival syndicate member was a betrayal. Even if he wasn’t part of the Aobajohsai-gumi, it was his father who ran it. Yet, the weight on Namikawa pushing him against the door, the slide of his thigh between Tooru’s leg prompted him to hesitate. And when Namikawa bit down on his lip, pulling it slightly and eliciting a surprised moan out of Tooru, all thought flew out the window.

He pushes himself away from the door, guiding Namikawa backward until his legs hit the edge of the bed. The older takes a sit and Tooru quickly climbs onto his lap, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

He could allow himself this, just for tonight, because this stranger was promising a good time and Tooru would be a fool not to take the opportunity after a stressful couple of weeks. And if this was a mistake, he could deal with the consequences later.

\---

Tooru walks out from the bathroom freshly showered, a cream bathrobe wrapped around his body, and a towel slung around his neck. He spots Namikawa sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through something on his phone. The soft glow of the bedside lamp only lightens a few of the many tattoos he holds, and Tooru is reminded once again of what had just happened and the possible mistake he had made. 

While being in the shower, he thought about the possibilities behind Namikawa’s identity. Tooru had seen the red flags around him, and he had deliberately ignored them. But when he thought back to the weight of Namikawa’s body over his, the slide of his cock as he thrust into Tooru’s ass, and the hot breaths hovering above his ear, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the experience. It was only a matter of finding out just who exactly this guy was.

“Hey, you can go in,” Tooru calls out, successfully catching the attention of the other. Namikawa looks at his phone once again, furrowing his eyebrows lightly before sighing. Tooru’s suspicion towards the other grew a little more upon noticing the action. It was 2 a.m. and Tooru knew that there was no way whatever was making Namikawa uneasy had to do with a normal job. Not with the tattoos littering along his chest and back, all the way to his elbows. Slight chances are that Namikawa is working under his father, yet if that were the case, he surely would’ve recognized Tooru. Everyone in the syndicate knew the whole Oikawa family. Which lead to the other possibility: having slept with a rival syndicate’s member.

Despite the dreadful situation, Tooru couldn’t deny that the sex had been good, and he could blame the mistake on the heat of the moment. Intrigue itches on Tooru like a mosquito bite, it pushes at the back of his mind and begs him to solve the mystery about this man. The rational part of Tooru however, knows the risks of snooping through Namikawa’s things, especially if his suspicions were right. 

Namikawa pushes past Tooru, muttering a small ‘thanks’ before locking himself in the bathroom. In the split of a minute, before the sound of running water told Tooru that if he was going to search he had to do it now, Tooru made his decision. 

He first walks to the side of the bed Namikawa had been previously sat on. The most valuable evidence Tooru could have found was Namikawa’s phone, but he was aware the older male had taken it with himself, probably as a security measure. Out of the corner of his eye, Tooru spots the several pieces of clothing they had discarded earlier that night, more focused on devouring each other than on the mess they were making. Tooru walks over there and picks up Namikawa’s pants. Upon checking the first pocket, he’s just met with yen bills, in big quantities, there are no signs of an ID or something that could at least give away the guy’s real name. Tooru sighs and moves onto the other pocket, he’s met with a small metallic object, which Tooru soon realizes it’s a USB. _Bingo._ Tooru considers taking the USB to Hanamaki, yet he knows that if his friend were to find something bigger inside it, something that involves their syndicate, Tooru would undoubtedly get involved. He isn’t planning on getting involved again any time soon.

“I would put that back if I were you.”

Tooru closes his eyes and curses himself internally. He didn’t think Namikawa would take such little time in the shower. Tooru feels a sharp object press against his back, not quite hurting him but still threatening. _He’s got a damn knife._ Tooru takes a deep breath, willing to calm his nerves down and assess the situation. Right now, Namikawa had the upper hand, one wrong move or word, and Tooru was done for.

“Just put your hands up and walk away,” Namikawa, in a stern voice. Tooru complies and slowly raises his hands and takes a few steps back, still aware of the knife pressed against his back.

“That’s it,” one of Namikawa’s arms, the one holding the knife, rounds Tooru’s waist, while the other goes to take the USB away from him. Tooru gulps, feeling now the tip of the knife pressed against his sternum, “what were you doing looking through my stuff huh?”

“I-I was l-looking for a c-card, to c-contact you,” Tooru slightly cringes, but thanks his good acting. Even if the excuse was embarrassing in itself, feigning innocence would hopefully provide him an open window to pry himself away from Namikawa. He hears the older chuckle teasingly.

“I thought you were aware this was a one-time thing, pretty boy,” he teases, breath hovering just above Tooru’s ear. Tooru shudders slightly, feeling a small wave of heat run through his body, “don’t, touch my stuff.” Namikawa states, lowering the knife from Tooru’s chest. It’s the only opening Tooru needs.

In the split of a second, Tooru takes hold of Namikawa’s wrist, bending it with slight pressure to force him to drop the knife. He knows Namikawa isn’t aware, because he probably isn’t expecting Tooru to fight back. Tooru turns around, pinning Namikawa’s hands behind his back and pushing him against the bed with force. Tooru is aware of the slight disadvantage regarding their strength but he tries his best not to allow the other to get control. It only lasts a while because soon, Namikawa is pushing back against Tooru, his head knocking against Tooru’s face. The younger yelps in pain and Namikawa takes the opportunity to free himself from Tooru’s grasp, turning around and throwing Tooru on the bed. He picks up the knife and quickly straddles Tooru. He pins his arms at the side of his head, holding him down.

But Tooru grew up surrounded by danger, trained along with his brother to become a weapon. And even though he didn’t belong to that life anymore, he still knew every technique that he was taught to defend himself.

Tooru bucks his hips up while sliding his arms down, successfully freeing his arms and making Namikawa fall forward against the mattress. In that second, Tooru took hold of Namikawa’s right arm, bringing it down and lifting his hips to roll them over, switching their positions. Tooru brings up one of his feet, using it to pin one of Namikawa’s arms down while still straddling him. He used his knee to hold Namikawa’s legs in place, preventing the older from kicking him, meanwhile one of his hands pulled Namikawa’s other arm toward him. Tooru part of his bathrobe slide against his shoulder, which was the least of his concerns as he tried to prevent the other man from killing him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the discarded knife, and with his free hand he picks it up, pushing it against Namikawa’s neck threateningly.

“What’s your name?” Tooru demands, annoyed at the whole situation.

“Namikawa Koji,” the other replies stubbornly, glaring daggers at Tooru through furrowed eyebrows. Tooru lets out a humorless laugh.

“Do you still think I’m stupid?” Tooru questions, pushing the tip of the blade harder against Namikawa’s neck, slightly nicking the skin, “I’m going to ask you one more time, what is your name?” Tooru asks louder. The man in question only glares at him harder, moving to get Tooru off him. He’s met with an unmovable force as Tooru doesn’t budge, only pushing himself down more. Namikawa sighs, dropping his attempts.

“Iwaizumi,” he mutters, voice low. It almost escapes Tooru but he’s able to catch it. He realizes that the other deliberately decided not to reveal his first name. Tooru doesn’t bother though, his last name is enough to gather some intel on him.

Tooru bites his lip to prevent himself from smirking as he realizes he has the upper hand now. With leisure, he drags the knife up to _Iwaizumi’s_ cheekbones, pressing it softly against the tan skin.

“Tell me _Iwa-chan,_ do you, by any chance, know the Oikawa family?” Tooru asks in an innocent tone. Iwaizumi’s eyes flick in recognition.

“The Okinawa’s as in the Aobajohsai-gumi syndicate’s Okinawa’s?” Iwaizumi questions, body tense under Tooru.

“Why yes! You see Iwa-chan, my name isn’t Higashi Aito,” Tooru explains, watching the older grimace at the given nickname, “But Oikawa Tooru, youngest and favorite son of Oikawa Tatsuo.”

Tooru watches in delight as Iwaizumi’s eyes widen in disbelief. He feels warmth settle at the pit of his stomach as the atmosphere packs up with tension. While under other circumstances revealing his real name and familial background would be dangerous, he knows that Iwaizumi won’t kill him now. Not unless he wants to unravel a gang war against Japan’s biggest syndicate. Tooru pulls the knife away from Iwaizumi’s face as he lowers his head right beside the other’s ear.

“And I doubt my dad would take it lightly that someone tried to murder his son, don’t you think Iwa-chan?” Tooru asks teasingly while biting down on Iwaizumi’s ear, making the older groan slightly. Tooru pulls away to gaze down at Iwaizumi with a coy smirk, eyes glinting with slight desire, “so you have three options: I can kill you right here and now. I can let you go and tell my dad to chase you… or… you could fuck me until I forget about it.”

Tooru throws away the knife, the metal clattering quite loudly against the floor, before crashing his lips against Iwaizumi’s. The older pushes back just as equally eager, biting Tooru’s lower lip to coax his mouth open. He licks into the inside of Tooru’s mouth, eliciting a soft moan from him. Tooru’s tongue pushes back, curling slightly against Iwaizumi’s own. Little by little, Tooru’s grip around Iwaizumi’s wrists loosens up. It soon allows the other to take control. Iwaizumi flips them over, using his weight to pin Tooru to the bed while he continues to devour him through bruising kisses. Tooru’s arms immediately move to round Iwaizumi’s neck, pulling him closer. 

There’s a tug at the back of Tooru’s mind, his conscience telling him that this is wrong, that he should push Iwaizumi away and leave immediately. Briefly, his thoughts flick back to his father, and the effort he had made to allow Tooru to lead a relatively normal life. Guilt begins to ebb at his mind. However，another part of Tooru, the bigger part, is caught up in the feeling of the man above him. The push of Iwaizumi’s lips against his, the weight of his body on top of Tooru. Sweet and naked passion making his insides burn in desire.

“Namika-,”

“Iwaizumi,” the other interrupts, voice firm and imposing. A shiver runs up Tooru’s spine in anticipation. He pulls away first, breath coming out in loud huffs. Iwaizumi doesn’t waste time, trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses down Tooru’s jaw all the way to his neck. Tooru closes his eyes briefly as his nails scratch the spiky hair at Iwaizumi’s nape. The older bites at the junction of Tooru’s shoulder. Light pain spread through Tooru’s body like a wildfire, making his back arch off the bed. His hands move down the exposed area of inked skin, sliding past the bathrobe to press against Iwaizumi’s shoulder blades.

One of Iwaizumi’s hands pulls apart the knot tying Tooru’s bathrobe. The material falls past Tooru’s shoulders, exposing his skin. Before, it had been a blur of desperation and want, but under the current circumstances, there was now a new feeling between the two. Iwaizumi sits back on his heels, staring at Tooru’s body thoroughly. Tooru bites his lip to prevent a smirk, he knows he’s a sight to see, and he’s glad Iwaizumi can appreciate that too.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Iwaizumi declares, running his hands up Tooru’s body. It sets goosebumps on Tooru’s skin and the brunette lets out a soft whimper. He arches into Iwaizumi’s touch, reveling in the praise. Iwaizumi’s hands stop right on his nipples, his fingers grazing lightly over them. Tooru squirms, quite desperate for his touch, his skin feels hot as desire grows on the pit of his stomach and expands to the rest of his body.

“C’mon, touch me,” Tooru taunts, challenging Iwaizumi into making him feel good. Iwaizumi’s smirks, head dipping down into Tooru’s chest. He starts right below Tooru’s collarbone, sucking the skin until Tooru knows it’ll bruise, but he couldn’t care less. His hands bury themselves on Iwaizumi’s hair, tugging slightly when pleasure spikes on his body. The older groans softly as he pulls away from Tooru’s collarbone to work his way down.

“Wait!” Tooru calls out. Iwaizumi looks at him with an arched brow, expectant. Tooru untangles his hands from his hair and moves to push away Iwaizumi’s bathrobe, “I can’t be the only naked one here, I want to see you, too” he teases. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes but pulls away briefly to undo his bathrobe, letting the piece of clothing fall down his shoulder, revealing the inches of ink marked onto his body. There’s another tug at the back of Tooru’s mind, reminding him that he’s making a big mistake and that now he’s aware of it. Tooru can’t bring himself to care though, not when he’s mesmerized by the array of drawings and symbols etched onto Iwaizumi’s skin. Iwaizumi smirks.

“Like what you see?” He asks, amusement marked onto his features.

“I do, a lot,” Tooru admits, letting his hands wander briefly to the other’s abdomen, slowly making his way up and feeling the ridges of taught muscle under his fingers. He reaches Iwaizumi’s shoulders and pulls him down, connecting their lips once more. Tooru licks into Iwaizumi’s mouth, his tongue meeting the other’s halfway. Meanwhile, one of Iwaizumi’s hands takes hold of Tooru’s hips, tugging him closer to grind his hips down. It makes Tooru break the kiss off with a moan, his eyes closed as he pushes his hips up to seek more pleasure. Skin slid against skin, hot and needy. Tooru gasps with each push of the other’s hips, his hands reaching Iwaizumi’s back, letting his nails scratch slightly against marked skin.

“Iwa, ha-,” Tooru calls out, breathless. The older groans, settling his head on the crook of Tooru’s neck. He licks a stripe up the side of Tooru’s neck, biting his earlobe. The younger shudders, lips seeking purchase on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, sucking a red spot on the tan skin not covered in tattoos.

“Your skin is so pretty, so smooth,” Iwaizumi praises. His hand slides down from Tooru’s hips down to squeeze his thigh. He lifts himself, offering a coy smile before sliding down, “prop your legs up.”

Tooru does so immediately, planting his feet on the mattress and spreading his legs apart. Iwaizumi stares at Tooru through his legs, eyes determined. It makes Tooru squirm in anticipation as the other holds both of his thighs between his hands, kneading the soft skin.

“You’re so wet here,” Iwaizumi comments, fingers grazing the tip of Tooru’s cock, slick with precum. Tooru turns his head to the side, biting his arm to stop himself from moaning, “c’mon, don’t look away from me,” Iwaizumi demands, fingers taking a hold of Oikawa’s cock, sliding the foreskin down. Tooru gasps as Iwaizumi take the head between his lips, giving it a suck, tongue poking at the slit. Tooru turns to look at the older, watching him pull back with a smirk. Iwaizumi turns his head to one of Tooru’s thigh, he lays open-mouthed kisses there, trailing down. He sucks at a spot right near Tooru’s ass, biting down on the skin. Tooru grips the bedsheet, gasping loudly.

“C’mon Iwa-chan, you said you’d make me feel good,” Tooru taunts. He yelps when he feels Iwaizumi switch sides, biting down on milky skin hard. He slides down further, lips hovering right above Tooru’s hole. With strength, he holds Tooru’s thighs open, keeping them in place as he lays a kiss on his hole. Tooru’s hands fly down to grip Iwaizumi’s hair.

“You haven’t bottomed that much have you?” Iwaizumi asks, voice amused. His thumbs knead circles on Tooru’s thighs as he lays kisses all over his ass.

“why do you say that?” Tooru asks in between breaths, fingers curling lightly between brown hair. Iwaizumi brings two of his fingers to Tooru’s mouth. The younger immediately takes them in his mouth, tongue coating them in saliva.

“Because I haven’t done anything yet you’re a mess,” Iwaizumi remarks with a deep chuckle. He pulls his fingers away, guiding them to rub at Tooru’s hole. Tooru is about to retort but is cut off by a moan as Iwaizumi slides a finger in, slowly stretching him out. He thrusts his finger in and out, eventually increasing his pace. Tooru holds onto his shoulders, pulling him down into another searing kiss, messier as tongues roam into each other’s mouth. Tooru breaks off the kiss when Iwaizumi slides a second finger in, scissoring them. He slides back down and settles once again between Tooru’s legs. Slowly he slides his tongue in, using his free hand to keep Tooru’s thigh in place. The younger slightly arcs off the bed, his hands finding purchase in Iwaizumi’s hair again. Iwaizumi begins thrusting his tongue inside Tooru’s hole, along with his two fingers. Tooru’s fingers curl around his hair tugging slightly. His lips close around Tooru’s hole, sucking as two fingers press and massage inside, curling in search for a certain spot. He knows he finds it when Tooru moans loudly and arches off the bed, hands pulling Iwaizumi’s head down.

“Iwa, _ahh_ \- it feels… _ha,_ good,” Tooru blabbers, closing his eyes as his head lolls to the side. Iwaizumi thrusts faster, his fingers pushing again and again against Tooru’s prostate. Tooru feels a wave of pleasure wash through him. he briefly wonders how he hadn’t bottomed more, because the way Iwaizumi was making him feel was glorious. Iwaizumi pulls his tongue out, fingers still thrusting slowly inside Tooru, he begins lapping at the rim before pushing inside once again, teasingly.

“Look at you, coming undone by me,” Iwaizumi remarks between thrusts of his tongue. Tooru stares down at the man, meeting his eyes. He’s entranced, unable to look away as he watches Iwaizumi eating him out, stretching him thoroughly, “it’s fucking beautiful.”

He increases his pace, making Tooru’s fingers yank at his hair. His legs quiver slightly and he feels the urge to close them, but Iwaizumi keeps his hand steady, massaging the marked flesh and squeezing. With one more thrust, he pulls out, making Tooru whine at the loss.

He climbs up, laying open-mouthed kisses all over Tooru’s body until he reaches his lips. Tooru pushes himself by the elbows, meeting Iwaizumi halfway through, lips meeting up messily. He can taste himself on Iwaizumi’s tongue as he sucks on it, sloppily making a mess of themselves. Iwaizumi pulls away first, reaching to the nightstand’s drawer to take out condoms. Tooru takes the opportunity and flips them over, climbing on top of Iwaizumi and straddling him. the older stares at him in disbelief.

“What are you-?”

“I’m gonna show you what hell of a bottom I am,” Tooru declares, determined. He takes out the condoms from the drawers and opens one. He slides it down Iwaizumi’s cock, giving it a few pumps and making the older groan.

He lifts himself, aligning his hole with the other’s cock, before slowly sinking, feeling the head of Iwaizumi’s cock stretch him out. It rips a moan off the both of them, Tooru steadying himself on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, while the older grabs Tooru’s hips tightly. He feels his hole stretch, Iwaizumi’s cock sliding in and making him squirm. The other can’t help himself and brings Tooru’s hips down, fully settling him down to the hilt while knocking a loud moan from Tooru’s mouth. His head darts back exposing his marked neck. Iwaizumi pitches forward, sucking at Tooru’s neck and deepening the purple marks.

It takes Tooru a while to get used to Iwaizumi’s size, feeling his cock twitch slightly inside. After a few seconds, Tooru takes a shaky breath and lifts himself, before sinking back down, beginning to set a slow pace.

“God Iwa-chan, you’re so _hah-_ so big,” Tooru moans out, closing his eyes and resting his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, biting it to muffle his moans. He quickens his pace, bouncing on Iwaizumi’s cock vigorously.

“And you’re so tight,” Iwaizumi groans, sliding his hand up to help Tooru up and down his cock. Tooru’s skin slid against Iwaizumi’s, slick with sweat. The feeling of Iwaizumi inside of him, feeling his cock drag against his walls each time he sunk, sent him spiraling. Drunk in pleasure and need. Iwaizumi took hold of Tooru’s neck, bringing him down to another kiss, biting down on his bottom lip with force. His hips stuttered, slightly pitching upwards, making the head of his cock grazing Tooru’s prostate. The younger cries out in pleasure, muffled by Iwaizumi’s lips, kissing with a bruising force.

“Iwa, _ahh_ it feels so, _so good,_ so _oh-_ deep,” Tooru blabbers, lips sliding against Iwaizumi’s. He pulls away, fastening his pace. In turn, Iwaizumi begins thrusting his hips up slightly, reaching deeper inside Tooru. Pressing against Tooru’s prostate repeatedly. His hands move to Tooru’s chest, thumbs rubbing on sensitive nipples. It makes the younger gasp, his pace faltering at the newly added pleasure.

“You look so pretty, riding my cock so well,” Iwaizumi purrs, planting kisses on Tooru’s collarbones. Tooru felt his insides burn, the praise making him shiver slightly as he began bouncing more forcefully, sliding deeper down. He felt himself nearing the edge, and by the sounds, Iwaizumi was making, he was close too. Tooru pitched forward to kiss Iwaizumi again, more sloppily. The older moved his hand between them, taking a hold of Tooru’s cock and pumping it in pace with Tooru’s bounces. Tooru moans into Iwaizumi’s mouth, stopping to gyrate his hips, feeling the head of Iwaizumi’s cock rubbing his prostate. The older grunted, pulling away and kissing the side of Tooru’s face as tears began to fall.

“C’mon pretty boy, come for me,” he whispers. It takes that and a few more bounces for Tooru to come undone, legs jerking as he stains both his and Iwaizumi’s chests. Iwaizumi helps him ride his orgasm out, guiding him up and down his cock. And it’s the feeling of Tooru squeezing tightly around him that sent him orgasming, biting down on the younger’s shoulder. He rides it out, thrusting shallowly into the other’s hole.

Tooru lifts himself and collapses on the bed, beside Iwaizumi. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself from the high. Meanwhile, Iwaizumi goes into the bathroom, coming back with a wet towel. He hands it to the younger who cleans himself up, before discarding it on the floor.

“That was something,” Tooru says in between breaths, laying on the bed. Iwaizumi goes over to his discarded jeans and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He offers one to Tooru, who accepts it. Once both cigarettes are lit, Iwaizumi sits in the bed, resting his head against the headboard as he takes in a lazy drag of smoke.

“It was,” Iwaizumi agrees. They’re both startled by the ringing of a phone in the distance. Iwaizumi picks it off from the nightstand, checking it. Tooru doesn’t bother looking, he didn’t want to get into Iwaizumi’s bad side again. He takes a drag of the cigarette, releasing it in small puffs of smoke. Despite being a doctor, smoking had become a habit he tended to do whenever he was too stressed, or after sex. And in all honesty, he couldn’t care to for it.

“I have to go,” Iwaizumi announces, standing up and moving to put on his clothes. Tooru watches him from the bed, seeing the ripples in Iwaizumi’s muscles as the other pulls on his clothes. He didn’t bother on moving, just sitting up to get a better look on the other. Once Iwaizumi finishes, he grabs his phone and walks to the door. He stops right before opening it and turns to look at Tooru.

“You are aware this was a one-time thing right?” Iwaizumi asks, raising an eyebrow at Tooru. The younger only scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Of course I know,” he shoots back, mildly annoyed.

“It’s just before you said-,”

“I was making up an excuse, I’m not dumb,” Tooru interrupts, puffing out a cloud of smoke. Iwaizumi only nods, before turning back to the door and opening it. Once he’s gone, Tooru flops back on the bed. He puts out the cigarette on the ashtray and covers his face.

“I fucked up.”

\---

“What do you want?”

“Makki, can’t I just call my best friend to see how he’s doing?” Tooru asks, offended. He can almost see Hanamaki roll his eyes on the other side of the phone.

“Of course not, you’re Oikawa Tooru,” Hanamaki retorts flatly. Tooru gasps in indignation.

“Rude! What does that mean anyway?” Tooru questions, furrowing his eyebrows. He stands from his sofa and begins pacing around the room.

“That you only call me when you need something,” Hanamaki provides, matter-of-factly, “so what do you need?”

Tooru remains quiet and ponders on the question, biting his lip nervously. It’s been two days since his encounter with Iwaizumi, and guilt and curiosity had been eating him up nonstop. He wasn’t sure if telling Hanamaki was the best idea. Hanamaki had been adopted by the Oikawa family when he was 6 and Tooru was 5. They had grown up together and Tooru considered him more of a brother than his own older brother. Despite this, telling Hanamaki would be assuming the consequences of what he had done, and Tooru was too scared of finding out who Iwaizumi was.

“Tooru?” Hanamaki calls out, slight worry seeping through his voice. Tooru sighs, he might as well know now.

“Do you by any chance have any new tea for me to try out?” Tooru asks, hearing his friend take in a sharp breath. Due to Tooru’s father’s controlling nature, they had come up with that phrase in case any of their phones were bugged. It was the code word for ‘I fucked up’, and Tooru knew Hanamaki would set any jokes aside on the matter.

“Yeah,” Hanamaki answers sounding more worried now, “my apartment?”

“Yes, see you there,” Tooru answers and hangs up the phone. He sits back on the sofa and scrubs his face, wondering why he had allowed himself to make such a mistake. _At least the sex was good._ Tooru stood up and went to change, calling his driver to take him to Hamasaki’s apartment.

Throughout the whole ride, Tooru felt incredibly uneasy, constantly cracking his fingers even if there was nothing to pop. It seemed to calm him down. Several outcomes of his conversation had come to his mind, but he wasn’t truly sure how his friend would react to the story. He just hoped Iwaizumi wasn’t someone big in the yakuza industry, because if he was, then Tooru was truly in for a long scolding.

Once he was standing in front of Hanamaki’s condo, he took in a deep breath. Tooru convinces himself that it was going to be okay because Hanamaki would support him no matter the circumstances. He walks to the reception, citing his best friend’s apartment number. After a call, he’s allowed to go up. Somehow, the elevator ride feels worse, his stomach is churning and Tooru feels as if he’s either going to faint or puke. He reaches the sixth floor and walks down to apartment 116. He closes his eyes and counts to ten, trying to get his breath to normalize. Tooru knocks on the door twice, it opens and he’s immediately met with Hanamaki’s worried face.

“Hey, Makki!” Tooru exclaims in a feign cheery voice, having his friend believe that he’s okay was impossible, but he could at least give it a try.

“Come on in,” Hanamaki says, moving aside to let Tooru in. Tooru takes off his shoes, leaving them right beside his friend’s. Perhaps it’s the countless times he’s been at Hanamaki’s place or perhaps his friend’s presence alone, but Tooru immediately relaxes. He’s still a little bit on edge, but the familiarity of the place provides great comfort. Tooru walks to the living room and sits on one side of the sofa. Hanamaki follows suit and sits on the other side. They both remain quiet, Tooru fiddling with his fingers as he came up with a way to begin the story.

“What did you want to talk about?” Hanamaki asks, placing his hand on top of Tooru’s, it helps the younger ease off more. Tooru sighs and slumps back on the sofa.

“On Friday night I went clubbing,” Tooru begins, he doesn’t need to look at his friend to know Hanamaki is looking at him disapprovingly, “and I met a guy.”

“Tooru, I thought we agreed the code phrase was only for emergencies,” Hanamaki interrupts, sounding slightly annoyed, “not your boy troubles, and you know I don’t like the idea of you going out alone.”

“I know, but hear me out,” Tooru pleads, quite desperately. It makes Hanamaki shut up, nodding for Tooru to continue, “well, he was hot, but when he told me his name I realized something was off.”

“Something like…?”

“He used a fake name,” Tooru explains. Hanamaki’s eyes widen slightly, “it was a red flag, I know, but I kept going. Eventually, we ended up leaving for a hotel, and well, when I took off his shirt I saw a second red flag.”

“Tattoos?” Hanamaki guesses. Tooru flinches slightly, turning to look at Hanamaki, “who was he. Tooru?”

“Wait let me continue,” Tooru said, not answering the question just yet, “I kept going and we fucked. After he went to the bathroom, I went looking through his stuff.”

“Tooru!” Hanamaki exclaims, smacking the other’s head, “I thought you were smarter than that!”

“Oh shut up, you would’ve done the same,” Tooru defends himself, glaring at Hanamaki. He remembers what happened next and his demeanor changes, he lets out a shaky breath, “the thing is, he found out and tried to kill me-,”

“Wait what?! He tried what?!” Hanamaki interrupts, going immediately to hold Tooru’s shoulders.

“I’m okay! I swear, I ended up pinning him to the bed and asked for his name,” Tooru explains, taking Hanamaki’s hands away from him.

“So? Who was he?” Hanamaki asks desperately. Tooru closes his eyes and gulps, he’s not sure if he wants to know how Hanamaki would react.

“Iwaizumi, that’s all I got,” Tooru answers. In the split of a second, he watches Hanamaki’s attitude change, body going rigid and eyes widening, almost with dread. It sets off an alarm inside Tooru’s mind.

“Makki who is he?” Tooru demands immediately, looking at his friend with concern. The way Hanamaki was treating the situation doesn’t sit well with him. It makes anxiety run through his system, as his heartbeat picks up automatically. Hanamaki sighs and looks at Tooru.

“Well, you know the Seijoh-kai right?” Hanamaki asks. It’s kind of pointless though, of course, Tooru knows. Just because he had searched a way out of that world didn’t mean he wasn’t attuned with it.

“Of course, they broke out of our syndicate years ago,” Tooru answers. He gulps, if Hanamaki was speaking about one of the rival syndicates to his father, it meant that Iwaizumi was related to it.

“And you also know about the ShiDenwa right?” Hanamaki asks once again, he has his hands clasped together, fingers twiddling with each other, it was a sign of anxiety he and Tooru shared. Dread began setting at the pit of his stomach. 

“Yeah, the company for contract killing,” Tooru answers once again. He had begun connecting the dots, not liking the turn this conversation was starting to take. Hanamaki remains silent, almost in thought. Apprehension kept Tooru at the edge of his seat. 

“His name is Iwaizumi Hajime,” Hanamaki provides, “does that name ring a bell to you.”

Tooru shakes his head.

“Well let’s say that if there’s a devil,” Hanamaki speaks up once again, he looks down at his hands and takes a deep breath, “then Iwaizumi Hajime would be the guy you send to kill the devil. And he’s currently working for the Seijoh-kai.”

Tooru feels his heart drop, and he can’t help the gasp that comes out of his mouth. He stands up from the sofa and begins pacing around the room.

“I fucked up, Makki I fucked up really bad,” he says, breath coming in short spurts. His hands fly to his hair, pulling on the strands with force. Tooru feels tears prickle on his eyes, and the urge to vomit he’s had only increases tenfold.

“Hey, Tooru, calm down,” Hanamaki calls out, walking over to his friend. He wraps his arms around Tooru, trying to get him to calm down, “you only fucked his once and you didn’t know.”

“It wasn’t once,” Tooru mutters against Hanamaki’s shoulder, “Makki, I slept with him again after knowing his name. I ignored the signs and deliberately went and betrayed my dad.”

“Tooru, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Hanamaki said, surprisingly calm despite Tooru’s confession. Tooru only buried his face on the crook of Hanamaki’s neck, trying to calm himself down, “but I’m dying to know, was the sex good?”

“It was amazing,” Tooru replies, both of them laugh. It settles Tooru’s nerves down, if only by a little.

“It’s going to be okay, Tooru,” Hanamaki reassures, “it was just a one-time thing, it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah,” Tooru agrees. He just really hopes that is the case. It didn’t matter how good the sex was, or the way the other male had made him feel, even if a part of Tooru wanted to repeat it. Right now, he just wishes that Iwaizumi and him don’t cross paths again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accept feedback in form of comments and kudos o(^∀^*)o
> 
> I really hope you liked it!! Look forward to next chapter! 
> 
> Btw, here's my [ twitter](https://twitter.com/squeakyotter) in case you want to chat or something.


	2. Make me feel like I am breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good evening, we call to require your services, your objective is a dark brown briefcase belonging to Takahashi Kenzuo. Location is at Luna Hotel, sixth floor, room 348, light security, leave no witnesses discretion is advised.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I SAID A WEEK AND IT'S BEEN 2, IM SO SORRY. But I just started Uni and it's hell :) even so, I promise next chapter will be due to next week. (Maybe)
> 
>  **DISCLAIMERS:**  
>  There's violence and smut in this chapter so yeah, reader discretion is advised.  
> If you haven't read my _thread explaining the syndicates and organizations_ please do so **[here](https://twitter.com/wasureukiyo/status/1285425597997449216)** , I'll be mentioning some in this chapter without explanation.
> 
> This chapter is from **Hajime's** point of view.
> 
> Finally, THANK YOU SO MUCH, I seriously wasn't expecting this to get such good results?? Like thanks to each Kudo, comment, bookmark, subscription, etc. It's what pushes me to continue this so seriously thank you (/▽＼*)｡o○♡ I'm sorry if I sound so awkward answering comments, I'm awkward in general.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

  
“Good evening, we call to require your services, your objective is a dark brown briefcase belonging to Takahashi Kenzuo. Location is at Luna Hotel, sixth floor, room 348, light security, leave no witnesses. Discretion is advised.”

Just like that, the caller hangs up. Hajime sighs, looking at the clock on his laptop, it reads 1:23 a.m. Well, it’s not like he was planning to sleep either. He closes his laptop, setting it aside on the coffee table. Beside him, his dog Taro stirs in his sleep. Hajime feels guilty for waking him up, but he has to stand up. Softly he nudges Taro awake, the dog stretches languidly and hops off the couch, moving to his bed on the other side of the room. Hajime stands up from the couch, limbs popping from all the time spent unmoving. His phone pings but he doesn’t bother to check it, he knows it’s a message with the same information from the call. Hajime walks to his bedroom and opens up his closet, he pulls out a black dress shirt and a suit, laying them neatly on his bed. His eyes drift from the clothes to his bed, neat and made, barely used. For the longest time, sleeping didn’t come for Hajime as it used to. There is too much on his mind, mainly old memories he desperately wants to delete, yet a part of him can’t let go.

He takes off his shirt and stares at himself in front of the mirror while changing. His eyes land on a purple mark right on the crook of his neck. His thoughts wander to Friday night, and what happened. Being honest to himself, Hajime hadn’t really expected anything of what had happened. He had heard about the club via Matsukawa and decided to give it a try, he saw someone attractive and decided to take him home. _Oikawa Tooru huh?_ Hajime knew the Oikawa family, of course he did. They ran the biggest crime syndicate in Japan, but that was as far as he knew. Outside of the information he received through each of his jobs, Hajime didn’t bother informing himself about what was happening in the underground world. Matsukawa was the one he asked whenever he had any inquiries. Hajime makes a mental note to ask his friend about Oikawa later, just to get a general idea of who he slept with.

Once Hajime changes into his suit, sliding a bulletproof vest under his dress shirt, he walks out of his bedroom with his jacket in hand, to the supply closet where he kept all of his weapons. The call had advised him to be discreet, but it wasn’t like Hajime did his job flashily. The more attention you brought to yourself, the more chances you got of being killed, that’s what he believed in. He pulls out a gun holster, sliding it over his chest. He grabs a gun with a silencer, sliding in a cartridge and packing it, along with two more cartridges. Hajime had never been a huge fan of using guns, but he couldn’t deny that sometimes they were an efficient and quick way to kill his targets, especially if they were surrounded by security like those of higher places. Hajime takes out a knife belt and an ankle knife holder. Unlike guns, he prefers knives, it makes killing more interesting despite the need for better aim or close range. He pulls out several knives in different sizes and arranges them in his gear.

With everything ready, Hajime tugs on his suit jacket and walks back to his bedroom. He straightens his tie and any other crease within his suit. Lastly, Hajime slicks back his hair, careful not to let any stray hair out. Although working in a suit, especially if it involved fighting, wasn’t comfortable by any means, etiquette was always important. After all, Hajime wasn’t going to deliver death in a plain tee and jeans. He packs a set of extra clothes for changing in a duffel bag. Once done, Hajime walks out of his bedroom and onto the living room. Taro is watching him from his bed, head laid on top of his legs. As a Rottweiler, Taro was ruthless to anyone except for Hajime. Even Matsukawa, who Taro more or less ignored, was scared of Hajime’s dog. If anything though, it made him proud, it meant Taro could and would protect him under any circumstances. Of course, Hajime would never deliberately put his dog in danger.

Hajime walks over to Taro and pets his head, telling him that he won’t be gone for long. He slings the duffel bag over his shoulder and walks out of his apartment. The elevator is empty as usual, not that Hajime was expecting anybody. He thanks the fact that his condo, despite its popularity, is rather pretty calm. He didn’t need to deal with nosy neighbors asking about his job, or the reason he tended to leave his apartment at some ungodly hour in a suit with a duffel bag. It’s suspicious, Hajime won’t deny it; nevertheless, he didn’t have anything to worry about. Even if people began suspecting about him or went as far as calling the cops on him, Hajime knew his residential area was under the Seijoh-kai’s jurisdiction. As long as the contract was active, the syndicate had Hajime covered.

He descends all the way to the parking lot, and walks out of the elevator directly to his car, opening the trunk and dumping his duffel bag. He walks to the driver seat and gets in. Hajime opens the message from earlier. As per usual, it contains the same information mentioned in the call, along with more details such as the specific address and several instructions. He starts the car and backs up from his assigned space, driving out of the condo and onto the busy streets of Tokyo. Hajime turns on the radio, catching the clock from the corner of his eye, it was almost 2 a.m., he lets the GPS guide him to the assigned location.

Even this late at night, or early morning, Tokyo didn’t sleep. The streets weren’t as busy as other days, yet there was plenty of activity going on. 24-hour restaurants were lit up in cheap neon signs, advertising their menu, groups of friends, either drunk or sober walked along the sidewalks. There were also the few workers who were either starting their day or just getting off. Had his life gone different, perhaps Hajime would’ve belonged to one of those groups, or would’ve lead a relatively normal life. He never dwelled on it thought, his past was something he’d rather push to the back of his mind.

The Luna Hotel wasn’t too far away, located in Shinjuku near the popular clubs. It takes Hajime about fifteen minutes for him to reach his destination. He parks his car a few blocks down from the hotel, in an empty street. He exits the car and walks the rest of the way to the hotel, slow and serene. There used to be a time when Hajime got nervous before any of his jobs or a time when they seemed exciting. Lately though, it had been simply that: work. The ShiDenwa calls and Hajime goes. He does what he has to do, calls clean up, and leaves. And despite the unceremonious hours the ShiDenwa calls, it had somehow now become a routine.

Hajime walks through the front doors of the hotel, and heads straight to the reception desk. The place is rather small, and not very luxurious. It briefly makes Hajime wonder what kind of person his target is. The call stated that he has light security. It makes it easier for Hajime to sneak in and do his job quickly. The receptionist looks up at him, and offers him a smile.

“How can I help you?” she asks, voice overly cheery for 2 a.m.

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he simply answers. A look of understand crosses the receptionist’s face. She nods at him and types something into her computer. Not even a minute later she hands Hajime an elevator card. He takes it, gives her a nod and walks off. This is what Hajime liked about the ShiDenwa’s system, most of the time, if possible they would provide him with the necessary means for him to carry out his assignments.

Hajime walks to the elevator. While swiping the card and pressing the button for the sixth floor, out of the corner of his eye he notices a surveillance camera. He keeps his head down, it doesn’t matter how covered he is by the ShiDenwa, Hajime isn’t one to easily trust his surroundings. It’s a short ride, and soon enough Hajime reaches the sixth floor. He doesn’t get off immediately, hand behind his back in case he needs to act quickly with his gun. The main hallway seems empty, though it also splits into two sides. A plaque on each wall is indicating the room numbers on each side. His target is on the right-wing, room 358 being of the last ones on the floor. Hajime walks down the hallway calmly, the first rooms begin to pop up, one by one, but he pays no mind. There is a turn at the end of the hallway leading to the rest of the rooms. Hajime stops short before turning around, and takes out his gun. He sneaks a view into the hallway, locating the room easily due to the bodyguard standing outside. He’s quite big, yet the way he holds himself tells Hajime that he isn’t all too experienced. His hands hold a shotgun he probably doesn’t know how to use and his face is sporting some ridiculous dark shades, as if this were some sort of movie.

Hajime puts his gun back, as easy as it was taking the bodyguard out with the gun, he didn’t see any fun in it. Besides, it would be better to save munitions, Hajime wasn’t too fond of asking the syndicate or the ShiDenwa to provide him with more. Instead, Hajime takes out a small knife from the holster, waiting for the guy to look at the other side. When he does, Hajime steps forward, drawing his arm back and aiming quickly. He throws the knife, years of practice granting him perfect precision as it lands on the man’s neck. Blood quickly gushes out from the wound and onto the floor, the man barely processes what happened, he drops the shotgun, hands instinctively reaching for his neck.

Hajime is quick on his feet, moving forward to catch the man just before he slumps on the floor. He’s heavy, but Hajime isn’t some flower that could crumble under someone bigger than him. He carefully sets the guy on the floor, kicking the shotgun out of reach in case he tries to reach for it. Hajime pulls the knife out, blood flowing out like a fountain, staining the carpet. Shit, that was going to be some work for the cleaning service. He shakes the knife to clear away some blood, and knocks on the door casually.

“What is it Kimura?” a gruff voice from the other side asks, probably another bodyguard. Hajime doesn’t answer, only knocks again to draw some sort of irritation from the other guy so he could prompt the door open. It works and soon, a similar-looking guy opens the door. Hajime doesn’t hesitate, driving the knife straight into the guy’s chest. The man’s face contorts into a mix of surprise and pain, his body slumps forward and Hajime catches it, getting a glimpse of the other persons in the room as he pulls the knife out. He feels the warm dribble of blood running against his fingers and wonders if perhaps using a gun would’ve been better as he tosses the now dead body aside. There is another bodyguard and a man he guesses is Takahashi. The former is taking out his gun when Hajime throws his knife at his hand, successfully knocking the gun out of reach. He walks across the room and takes the guy’s hand, pulling it towards himself and bringing down his elbow to break the other’s arms. The guy screams in pain and tries to punch Hajime, who just ducks and moves behind the guy, grabbing his head between his arms and snapping his neck in a quick motion. The body falls limp to the ground. Hajime looks at Takahashi, who’s just cowering on the other side of the room. He looks back at the body slumped on the floor and briefly wonders since when his assignments had become so easy and boring. Hajime picks up his knife and steps over the bodyguard, slowly walking towards Takahashi. Hajime notes how he isn’t even holding a gun, snorting at the guy’s apparent death wish.

“W-what d-do you want?! I’ll g-give you anything!” Takahashi exclaims, flinging out his arms in front of him. Hajime only rolls his eyes, it was a phrase he had heard countless of times and Takahashi isn’t going to be an exception he concedes to.

“The briefcase,” Hajime states matter-of-factly, not even attempting to get near Takahashi, “where is it?”

“W-what briefcase? I d-don’t-.”

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Hajime questions, getting annoyed. He pushes Takahashi’s hands away and grabs him by the collar of his suit, “a brown briefcase, where is it?” he emphasizes his question by pressing the tip of the knife against Takahashi’s neck. A shaky hand points to the other side of the room. When Hajime turns to look, he notices a desk with said briefcase on top of it. He turns to look at Takahashi through cold eyes.

“Stay there and don’t try anything,” Hajime states, letting go of the man and walking to the other side of the room. He isn’t going to let Takahashi live, but he guesses he could at least spare him a few minutes. He reaches the desk and picks up the briefcase, checking if it’s empty. There’s a distinctive sound of shuffling on the other side of the room and Hajime sighs. He takes his gun out, turns around and shoots Takahashi straight on the head from where he was trying to get a gun. His body slumps into the ground under a pool of blood and brains. Hajime turns back to keep checking the briefcase. Noting that the contents seemed intact, he stores his gun back in the holster and walks out, careful not to dirty his shoes in blood. The floor seems empty, though he also takes into consideration the fact that not much commotion happened in the first place.

Hajime walks calmly to the elevator, riding down all the way to the lobby and back to the reception desk. He hands the lady his card back, she takes it back and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Should I call cleaning service?” she asks, voice less cheery than it was when he first came in. Hajime nods.

“Please do,” he answers. The lady nods and grabs the phone. Hajime turns and walks out of the hotel, noticing that the weather had dropped a little bit despite it being summer. He is thankful though, etiquette or not, working in a suit made him bound to sweat in a rather unpleasant way. Hajime walks back to his car, opening the driver’s seat and getting in, setting the briefcase on the passenger’s seat. he slumps his head back and drags a hand across his face, he’d rather be at home than doing this kind of assignments but if Irihata had called the ShiDenwa for it, it had to mean something.

Hajime turns on the engine and drives out from the hotel. He drives past Erotica and his thoughts shift back to a certain tall brunette. All gorgeous and seductive, with glinting eyes. Oikawa had caught Hajime’s eye from the moment he saw him across the bar talking to one of the bartenders –Kindaichi was it? Hajime didn’t even think twice about buying him a drink.

It had been a frustrating week for him, not because of the amount of work he had, but rather because of the lack of it. Despite the gruesomeness that came along with being a hitman, Hajime would prefer it over the measly attempts at sleep back on his house. The only downside was he had to leave Taro alone more often, which Hajime had always found rather displeasing. Just like these assignments, the previous ones had been more of a ‘pick up a package at a mediocre place with mediocre security’ type of assignments. Hajime didn’t like to brag, but he was aware of his status as one of the bests hitman under the ShiDenwa’s service. Though with the turn of events on Friday night, Hajime couldn’t really complain.

His thoughts drifted to what had gone down later that night. Pale skin gleaming with a thin layer of sweat as Oikawa rode him, body bouncing up and down beautifully over Hajime’s cock. Head thrown back and lips parted, letting out sinful sounds. Hajime shuddered at the memory. It had been great sex; he couldn’t deny it. It was a shame that Oikawa belonged to a rival syndicate because Hajime wouldn’t mind repeating that night if possible. He briefly wonders what Oikawa’s role in the Aobajohsai-gumi was, he didn’t seem like a straight-up tough guy. But then again, he had pinned Hajime to the bed and demanded his name. Though on Hajime’s defense, that had been partly intentional. He was impressed, and subtly aroused, with Oikawa’s skill and self-defense, not expecting it from someone with the likes of him.

Hajime’s phone buzzes on the inside of his suit, he doesn’t check it, already knowing the contents of the message. It was routine for Hajime to deliver whatever he had picked up during his assignments at the office that served as a cover for the Seijoh-kai, which is what the message indicated. Even so, it was part of the ShiDenwa’s protocol so Hajime knew that it didn’t matter how many times he had done it, he would always receive the message. Hajime glances at the car’s clock, noticing it was a few minutes past three. The roads are empty at this hour, so Hajime steps on the gas pedal, driving through known streets and avenues until he’s reaching Johsei Corp.’s building. He drives to the parking lot, just waving at the security guard, who simply lets him in, already familiar with Hajime’s pattern of work. Hajime easily finds an empty spot and parks his car, grabbing the brown briefcase before stepping out of the car and locking it.

As he walks to the elevator, he wonders if Irihata is in the building. Though it wasn’t rare to see him this late at night, most of the times Hajime delivered a package, he had to leave it to his secretary. As the _oyabun_ and the one in charge of giving Hajime his assignments via the ShiDenwa, he is the one Hajime often reported to. Hajime isn’t a member of the Seijoh-kai, but he does work under it as long as his contract was active. He isn’t even sure until when it expires, and in all honesty, he can’t bring himself to care about it too much. Hajime gets inside the elevator, pushing the button for the top floor, where Irihata’s office is. He busies himself by staring out one of the elevator’s glass panels, watching the way Tokyo lit up and twinkled, resembling a night sky. Though Hajime thinks it’s a shame that all the light pollution covers up the real night sky. Back in his hometown, the sky was clearer and stars were more visible, littering the sky in beautiful patterns and constellations.

Hajime shakes his head, expression turning sour at the thought of his past. It’s something that no matter how hard he tries to erase from his mind, small things can still set his memories off. Hajime shakes his head and turns to look at the passing numbers on the top of the elevator, watching it go higher and higher until it reaches the fiftieth floor. When the door opens, Hajime walks out straight to the secretary desk, the one who works during the nightshift. She looks up from her computer upon noticing Hajime’s presence, casting him a small smile.

“Ah, Iwaizumi-san, Irihata-san is waiting for you in his office,” she tells him, picking up a phone and dialing Irihata’s office number to inform him of Hajime’s arrival. Hajime raises an eyebrow at the girl, who shrugs in nonchalance. Had Hajime less control of his emotions, he would feel slightly unnerved, but he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. All his assignments were completed successfully and every package had been delivered, so the reason as to why Irihata would be calling him in to his office to talk to him laid beyond Hajime’s imagination.

“Okay, you may go in,” the secretary tells him. Hajime nods in acknowledgment and walks off to the door leading to Irihata’s office. He knocks twice, hearing Irihata shout a ‘come in’, before pushing the doors open. He is met with Irihata sat at his desk and Mizoguchi, Irihata’s right hand, sitting on one of the chairs in front of him. The atmosphere in the room immediately denotes Hajime of the seriousness of the meeting he’s about to have.

“Iwaizumi, take a seat,” Irihata tells him, motioning for the other chair in front of his desk, Hajime nods and takes a seat, leaving the briefcase beside him on the floor, “I know I haven’t been able to meet up with you lately, fortunately, I have time now, I hope you don’t mind the hour.”

“No, sir,” Hajime replies with a shake of his head. Irihata nods, he opens a drawer and pulls out several files, sliding them towards Hajime.

“I am aware you’re not content with your last assignments,” Irihata begins, shooting Hajime a knowing stare. Hajime bites his tongue, he is no position to complain, especially to his contractor. It is true that he felt the last assignments had been a waste of his potential and capabilities, but he is bound to a contract he has to abide for. Irihata only laughs lightly at him, “no need to be so tense, I’m also aware that your assignments were rather dull, even so, they were necessary.”

“How so?” Hajime asks. He had gotten a general idea that through his last assignments he had been collecting information. Nevertheless, with the amount of security and minimum preparation required, Hajime doubted it were important pieces of information.

“Well, some of your targets had small fragments of information needed to plan our next big move,” Irihata explains, crossing his arms and leaning back against his seat, “and since they weren’t willing to sell it, we had to get it some way.”

“And what about these files?” Hajime asks again, reaching out to pick up the folder. Irihata stops him, and Hajime withdraws his hand.

“First of all, did you acquire the target?” Irihata asks him raising an eyebrow at Hajime. Hajime nods, picking up the briefcase and handing it over to his superior. Irihata takes it and sets it on the table, once he opens it he pulls out the contents and checks them over. Hajime just waits patiently, he pulls out a cigarette from the pocket of his suit, noticing certain darker stains over the fabric He sighs, he doesn’t really like taking them to the laundromat, but luckily throughout the years Hajime had learned to wear dark clothing, it hid the stains better in plain sight. He lights up the cigarette and takes in a long drag, feeling the tension and exasperation ease from his shoulders lightly. Hajime had been in Irihata’s office enough times to be able to smoke without asking permission. Once Irihata’s done, he hums in approval, taking out a folder and placing the files in it, putting them away in his cabinet. He turns to look at Hajime.

“Can’t expect any less from you my boy,” Irihata compliments. Hajime only nods, fully aware that most of Irihata’s compliments were empty words. He takes another drag of the cigarette, the blunt end burning in orange. Irihata clears his throat, “these files contain the details for your future assignments, specifically targets and the type of information you must acquire, please make sure to read through them. The ShiDenwa will contact you soon.”

“Is that all sir?” Hajime asks, flicking the ashes off on the ashtray placed in front of him.

“Yes, there will be some things you’ll have to brief with Mizoguchi, but that can be done later,” Irihata says. Hajime turns to look at the man sitting right beside him, feeling dislike curl in his stomach. Mizoguchi was probably everything Hajime hated in a person. He was brash, imprudent, and more often than not too extremist. It often made him shudder at the thought of him being the next in line to lead the syndicate. Not that it was Hajime’s business with his contract deadline coming in soon. Though he was thinking of renewing it, he sometimes wondered if a change of scenery would be good.

And see, that’s what Hajime liked about the ShiDenwa’s system. No contract killer working under it belonged to a syndicate. Sure, they were tied down by a contract to each syndicate, yet the moment it ended, they were free to choose who to work for. The only rule the ShiDenwa had regarding its system was that no hitmen could escape from it. And the thought would’ve been terrifying if Hajime hadn’t spent some time running away from his old demons, somehow finding comfort in this twisted job.

Hajime nods at both men and stands up, letting the cigarette hang between his lips. With a small vow, he bids both gentlemen goodbye and walks out of the office. The receptionist doesn’t pay him mind as Hajime walks to the elevator. The brief thought of asking Matsukawa about Oikawa crosses his mind again, and as he gets inside the elevator, he pushes the button that would take him to his and Matsukawa´s office- not that Hajime ever worked in the morning. Once the door opens, he steps into an almost empty space, only a few offices lit up. Hajime sees one of their co-workers, a young and reckless boy named Kyoutani, walk past him. Hajime grabs his wrist. Kyoutani turns around to greet him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Kyoutani, is Matsukawa here?” Hajime asks him. Upon noticing him, Kyoutani’s expression eases, shaking his head. Hajime is fully aware that Kyoutani almost looks up to him. However, if he were to be honest, Hajime’s never considered himself to be a role model to others.

“I haven’t seen him,” Kyoutani comments shortly, feet shuffling from one to another. Hajime lets him go.“Thank you Kyoutani,” Hajime says. Kyoutani only grunts before turning around to continue walking down the hall.

Hajime sighs and rubs his face, pulling out this phone. Even if he’s unable to sleep as easily as it used to be, Hajime just wishes to be back at his apartment. He dials Matsukawa’s phone number, foot tapping against the floor impatiently. The older picks up the call at the third ring.

“It better be urgent,” Matsukawa says first thing, yawning into the receiver.

“I didn’t see you at the office,” Hajime tells him, he walks back to the elevator and waits for it to come back. Matsukawa snorts.

“Iwaizumi it’s 4 a.m.,” Matsukawa replies flatly. Hajime pulls away his phone to look at his phone’s clock and sure, it marks ten minutes until four, “unlike you, I, like most people, have a normal schedule.”

“Are you free tomorrow for lunch?” Hajime asks, ignoring Matsukawa’s attempt of an insult at Hajime’s work schedule. It’s not like he often lacks sleep to complain about his working hours, he preferred it over staring at the ceiling for hours, or mindlessly watching TV, or in other cases, using drugs to aid him in getting decent rest.

“Oh, what is this? Iwaizumi Hajime, feared hitman wants to have lunch with little old me?” Matsukawa teases. Hajime rolls his eyes; his attention is diverted to the sound of the elevator arriving. He steps in and presses the button that leads him directly to the parking lot.

“I need information,” Hajime states. Matsukawa hums on the other side.

“On what exactly?” Matsukawa asks him. Hajime ponders for a while if he should tell him about Oikawa now, though if he was being honest, he prefers not dealing with Matsukawa’s intrusiveness now.

“On someone,” Hajime replies, and add before Matsukawa can ask, “I’m not telling you who yet.”

“Huh, lame,” Matsukawa says, yawning into the phone, “well, tell me tomorrow then.”

“Fine, I’ll meet you at the entrance of the building at one.”

“Yeah yeah, you better pay,” Matsukawa tells him, “I have to sleep so bye.”

He hangs up. Hajime is about to put his phone away when he receives a message. A money transference from the ShiDenwa. Hajime ignores it and puts his phone away just as the elevator halts and opens. Hajime walks to his car, noticing it was almost the last one. Once inside, he leans his head against the steering wheel, feeling slight exhaustion seep into his bones. He pulls out another cigarette and lights it, turning on the ignition and driving away.

\---

“So, are you going to tell me who this mystery person is?” Matsukawa asks as they take a seat inside their usual Ramen-ya, “is it a girlfriend or boyfriend of the sort?” Matsukawa wiggles his eyebrows.

“What? No,” Hajime replies, calling over a waiter. Both of them recite their orders, the waiter nods, and leaves. Hajime turns back to Matsukawa and shoots him a glare.

“So, who is it?” Matsukawa asks, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on the chair.

“I need information on Oikawa Tooru,” Hajime tells him straight out flat. He watches as Matsukawa’s demeanor changes, he sits straight, leaning on the table and looking at Hajime seriously.

“What is this about? Is Irihata asking you to kill him or something?” Matsukawa lowers his voice in the last part, mindful of their surroundings. Hajime stares at him dumbfounded, not knowing where the question came from, “please tell me it’s not that.”

“What are you talking about?” Hajime questions, raising an eyebrow at Matsukawa. He’s about to ask further when the waiter comes with their orders, Hajime stops, ignoring the waiter as he sets down their food. Once he leaves, Hajime continues, “Irihata hasn’t asked me for anything yet.”

“Good, because killing Oikawa Tooru isn’t going to do us any favor,” Matsukawa says, visibly relaxing. He takes his chopsticks and begins digging his food. Hajime remains pensive, briefly wondering why would Matsukawa involve Oikawa with their syndicate, “then why did you need information on Oikawa Tooru?”

“Hmm, it depends on your answer,” Hajime replies, beginning to eat. He isn’t about to reveal last Friday’s events without some information on who Oikawa was. Matsukawa looks at him flatly and Hajime stares right back at him, unwavering. Finally, Matsukawa sighs and leans back.

“Oikawa Tooru, aka the Pampered Prince,” Matsukawa begins, putting his arms behind his head, “well, this is general information among us, but he is the youngest son of Oikawa Tatsuo, the _oyabun_ of the Aobajohsai-gumi.”

“Pampered prince?” Hajime asks, ignoring the rest of the information. It was what Oikawa had told him on Friday, something he already knew.

“Yeah well, he is a pampered prince. Unlike most common traditions between families, this Oikawa isn’t part of the Aobajohsai-gumi,” Matsukawa explains, eating his ramen, “about six years ago he left the syndicate to pursue a career in medicine in Tokyo University-,”

“Medicine?” Hajime interrupts in disbelief. Oikawa didn’t have the looks of a yakuza, but Hajime certainly hadn’t thought him to be a med student either. Matsukawa nods.

“Yeah, the thing is, his father actually allowed him to, hence why he’s called the ‘Pampered Prince’, most people believe he’s an easy target,” Matsukawa finishes, shrugging. Hajime bites his lip, he’s aware of how wrong Matsukawa’s statement was. His mind wanders back to when Oikawa managed to pry the knife out of Hajime. He knows Oikawa is capable of defending himself even if he doesn’t look like it. Matsukawa clears his throat, “do I get to know now why you need information on Oikawa Tooru?”

“I slept with him,” Hajime replies flatly, feigning nonchalance. He listens to Matsukawa choke on his food and smirks. His friend looks at him with wide eyes, disbelief cast in all of his face.

“You what?” Matsukawa questions. Hajime only shrugs, “no, don’t do that this is actually a big deal Iwaizumi.”

“Why? We didn’t know who each other was after it happened,” Hajime explained calmly, “the first time.”

“What do you mean the first time? Are you aware that something as little as this could cause a whole gang war between both syndicates?” Matsukawa asks quite bewildered. Hajime raises an eyebrow at him.

“C’mon, it was just a one-time thing,” Hajime reassures him, swatting his hand in dismiss, “why would it cause a gang war?”

“Because Oikawa Tooru is Oikawa Tatsuo’s favorite son?” Matsukawa responds, giving Hajime his ‘it’s obvious’ face, “it’s the same reason why Irihata should never assign you to kill him. He might want to bring the Aobajohsai-gumi down, but killing Oikawa Tooru would only make things worse for us.”

Hajime hums, focusing on his food. He briefly wonders if Irihata’s ‘new assignments’ have anything to do with Oikawa or the Aobajohsai-gumi. Hajime hoped it wasn’t the case, he didn’t really care what happened to Oikawa but if what Matsukawa said was true, then Hajime would prefer avoiding a gang war at all costs.

“So, how was the sex?” Matsukawa asks once he’s calmed down from his bewilderment, wiggling his eyebrows once again at Hajime. Hajime throws a mushroom at him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hajime tells him, smirking. Matsukawa and he might be close, despite their line of work, yet Hajime had never been one to share his personal life.

“On a serious note though, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa calls out, expression turning serious, and almost worried Hajime notes, “please don’t get involved with him, even if you encounter him again, nothing good will come out of it.”

“Relax Matsukawa, I doubt we’ll see each other again.”

\---

Hajime walks inside Erotica, mind briefly going back to the night he had met Oikawa. After what Matsukawa had briefed him on, Hajime was now aware of the implications that came along getting involved with Oikawa Tooru. Not that Hajime was planning to. He realizes a little bit too late that perhaps coming to Erotica hadn’t been his brightest idea since the chances of running into Oikawa were higher. But to be honest Hajime only needed to get some stress off his shoulders with a good drink and a partner to take to a motel. He takes a sit on the bar and is greeted by Kindaichi.

“Iwaizumi-san, if I’m not wrong,” Kindaichi greets him and gives him a nod, “what can I get you today?”

“Whiskey on the rocks, Kindaichi,” Hajime tells him, sliding his card across the counter for the younger to take. Kindaichi nods and excuses himself to prepare Hajime’s drink.

Hajime turns around on his stool, leaning back against the counter. He scans the crowd, today the club is more crowded than the last time he visited, he guesses that part of it is due to university students finally getting a break. Hajime snorts at the idea of university. Had his life taken a normal turn, he would have graduated three years ago, he would probably be working a decent job by now. Not that Hajime ever wished for a normal life, there was no use in wishing for a different past. Even among the mass of younger people Hajime doesn’t feel old, because he’s not. He’s only a few years ahead of most people in the club and he’s aware that there must be older people here too. Hajime briefly wonders how older than Oikawa he was, probably not that far ahead. Oikawa looks young, that’s true, but there is something in the way that he carries himself that tells Hajime he’s gone through something. Hajime shakes his head, dispersing any thought about Oikawa. They weren’t going to meet again so there was no use in thinking about him.

“Here you go, Iwaizumi-san,” Kindaichi interrupts his train of thought as he sets down Hajime’s drink and slides his card back. Hajime takes it, putting it back in his wallet before raising his drink and tipping it slightly towards the bartender.

“Thanks, Kindaichi,” Hajime praises, bringing the drink to his lips and downing almost half of it. He feels the burn run down his throat, strong and satisfying. Hajime closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh.

“I take it you had a rough week?” Kindaichi asks behind the counter. It surprises Hajime how empty the bar is despite the crowded club. Though he guesses that most people spend their time here dancing rather than only drinking.

“Something like it,” Hajime replies vaguely. It’s not that he had a rough week, but rather a disappointing one. That, stacked up with his usual lack of sleep just sets him in a sour mood. Kindaichi hums and leans against the counter.

“So, was last week good?” Kindaichi asks. He could’ve meant anything by it, but Hajime knows he’s talking about Oikawa. Both of them seemed comfortable with each enough to cross the lines of good acquaintances.

“Aren’t you too young to know?” Hajime teases, smirking as the other fumbles, mumbling a soft ‘I’m 21 already’ as he scrambles back from his previous position. Hajime laughs lightly, finding Kindaichi’s awkward demeanor odd in comparison to his job.

“He’s here tonight, by the way,” Kindaichi comments. Hajime knows he’s making it seem like it’s no big deal –and it isn’t, Hajime tells himself. Even so, it piques his interest quite strongly, yet he doesn’t show it physically.

“Is that so?” Hajime asks him as he takes another sip from his drink. Kindaichi nods.

“He came in about thirty minutes ago,” Kindaichi tells him. He looks away from Hajime and tips his chin towards the dance floor, “he should be in there by now.”

Hajime’s not going to lie, he’s tempted to go and look for Oikawa, and repeat last week’s night. Despite what Matsukawa had briefed him on about Oikawa and the implications of getting involved with him, Hajime’s mind still supplied him with memories of that night. Of Oikawa moaning in his ear, lewd and beautiful as he bounced on Hajime’s cock. Hajime shakes his head and sets down his drink.

“Thanks for the notice Kindaichi, but I’ll pass,” Hajime tells him, propping one of his arms on the counter as his finger traced the rim of the glass, tipping it slightly. Kindaichi raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Hajime manages to catch a knowing glint in his eyes and wonders if this kid knows that Hajime is just bullshitting. Even so, he wasn’t going to make efforts to go and look for Oikawa. If the younger ended up coming to the bar for a drink, then things might be different.

Not even five minutes have passed when Hajime sees him. He’s nursing his second glass of whiskey, almost finishing it when Oikawa saunter over to the other side of the bar circle. The first thing Hajime takes notice of is Oikawa’s outfit. This time, he’s wearing a loose black satin shirt with a v-opening that exposes his mid-torso, tucked under burgundy corduroy pants. He has a matching jacket thrown over the shirt, and Hajime wonders how Oikawa pulls off this disco-pretentious outfit so damn well. His eyes are carefully lined out in red, especially on the lower lash line, and his cheekbones shine in a gold tone under the warm lights of the bar area. The second thing Hajime notices is who is accompanying Oikawa. It’s a young man, shorter than Oikawa, and with a rather shyer demeanor. Hajime questions if he’s who Oikawa plans on taking to bed tonight. Hajime tries not to be too judgmental, yet there is something that doesn’t sit well with him about Oikawa letting this stranger fuck him.

“Oh, looks like they stole him from you,” Kindaichi comments as he walks around to serve Oikawa. Hajime furrows his eyebrows, not liking Kindaichi’s implications. It’s not like Oikawa is his to steal from.

He watches as Oikawa excuses himself to walk off somewhere, leaving his date behind in the bar. Kindaichi turns around, giving Hajime an expectant stare. The guy Oikawa was with is distractedly staring down at his drink, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Hajime sighs, downs the rest of his whiskey and decides to indulge himself tonight. He stands up and walks around the bar to where the other guy was sat at just as Kindaichi conveniently retreats. He takes a seat on the stool on the guy’s right, startling him.

“U-um can I h-help you?” the guy stutters out. Hajime wants to snort, perhaps Oikawa fed his ego off this type of people. It would explain why he was with this guy tonight.

“Yeah you see, the guy you were with just a while ago,” Hajime begins, not revealing Oikawa’s name in case he had chosen to remain anonymous tonight, “I had plans with him, so I kindly suggest that perhaps you should call it a night and go home.” The guy shrinks on his seat, appearing even smaller than he already was.

“I-I don’t t-think that-,”

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Hajime asks, voice slightly stern as he raises an eyebrow at the other. He knows the message comes across as the guy scrambles off his seat, searching in his pockets for money. Hajime stops him, “don’t worry, the drink is on me.”

As the guy leaves, Hajime hears Kindaichi snort. He turns around to look at the bartender, casting him a small glare. Kindaichi clears his throat and gives Hajime a teasing smile.

“I thought you weren’t interested, Iwaizumi-san,” Kindaichi pokes, sliding Iwaizumi a third whiskey on the rocks, “on the house, you’re going to need it.”

“Thanks, and I’m not, I just didn’t think he was Oikawa’s type,” Hajime defends, taking a sip of his drink.

“Actually, he was, when it comes to topping at least,” Kindaichi explains, now it Hajime’s time to snort. Kindaichi raises both of his eyebrows in surprise, looking past Hajime, “speaking of the devil. If you excuse me, I have other people to attend.”

Hajime is about to turn around when he filters another voice and a presence behind him.

“Iwa-chan! Fancy seeing you here!” Oikawa exclaims in fake cheerfulness. Hajime internally cringes at the nickname as he turns around and smirks at the younger, taking in his appearance and makeup now closer. He watches as Oikawa’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance.

“Well if it isn’t the pampered prince,” Hajime jabs back, watching Oikawa tense up before he rolls his eyes, “what is your majesty doing here?”

“I’m looking to get laid,” Oikawa answers directly and crosses his arms over his chest, projecting a defensive demeanor. His eyebrows furrow slightly, “my date ditched me though. You don’t happen to have something to do with it, don’t you Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks as he narrows his eyes.

“Me? Not it the least,” Hajime replies with mock innocence. Oikawa takes a sit on the stool beside him, mouth pressed in a thin line. Hajime takes another swing from his whiskey and waits. He knows he shouldn’t be pushing Oikawa’s buttons, but there was something alluring in watching him getting riled up.

“Look Iwa-chan, I don’t know what your intentions are but I would appreciate if you didn’t meddle in my affairs,” Oikawa says, calling out for Kindaichi. The bartender hands Oikawa what Hajime notes is a Cosmopolitan. Oikawa takes a large swing from his cocktail and sets the drink down forcefully on the table, “what is it to you anyway?” he questions.

“You were going to let that guy top you?” Hajime questions him. He remembers Kindaichi telling him that Oikawa usually tops but he had to make sure. Oikawa shoots him a plain stare.

“Please Iwa-chan, as if I’d let anyone top me,” Oikawa answers, propping his arm up on the counter and leaning his head against his hand, “I usually top, but I make exceptions for special cases.”

“Oh, so I was a special case huh?” Hajime teases, feeling his ego inflate slightly. Oikawa rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“Don’t flatter yourself, you were a decent case,” Oikawa declares. Both know it’s a lie though, Hajime couldn’t deny sex with Oikawa was one of the best he’d had. Hajime bites his lip, his eyes sparkling with slight mischief.

“Is that so?” He asks, his tone dropping slightly. He leans into Oikawa’s space and his lips brush against Oikawa’s ear, making him shudder, “how about we get out of here and I prove you just how wrong you are?”

Hajime pulls away, watching Oikawa roll the suggestion in his head while he busies himself with his drink. Oikawa’s lips curl slightly against the rim of his glass.

“I shouldn’t,” he says simply, body slightly tense yet suggestive. Hajime knows he wants it too, but there’s something holding him back.

“I brought my car with me today,” Hajime adds, smiling knowingly at Oikawa. The younger halts his movements, he sets down his cocktail and regards Hajime with a bite of his lips. Hajime stands from his stool and slides a couple of yen bills towards Kindaichi to pay for Oikawa’s and the stranger’s drink. He takes hold of Oikawa’s wrists and tugs him from his stool. He stumbles and crashes against Hajime’s chest. Hajime pulls Oikawa’s chin up with a finger, lips hovering right above the younger’s.

“C’mon pretty boy, let me make you feel good tonight.”

\---

The moment they shut the door, they’re devouring into each other’s mouths. Hajime’s veins thrum in excitement, his head hazed in thick, carnal desire. He pushes Oikawa against a wall as his hands slide past Oikawa’s shoulders to tug his jacket off, letting it slide to the floor. Oikawa’s arms immediately latch onto Hajime, hands moving to curl his fingers in his hair to tug him closer. Hajime takes a step closer, pressing their hips flush together. Oikawa jolts, pulling away to gasp and grind his hips back with eagerness. He begins pressing wet kisses on Hajime’s jaw, tugging his head to the side to suck a red mark on Hajime’s tan skin. Hajime groans as he slides down Oikawa’s lithe body. He presses thumbs over Oikawa’s nipples over the shirt, rubbing them slightly. Oikawa’s back arcs slightly into Hajime’s touch, hips pressing ever harder. He knows they probably shouldn’t be doing this, yet Hajime can’t really bring himself to care.

“Are you going to try to kill me again this time?” Oikawa teases, breath ghosting over Hajime’s skin.

“That depends on how you behave,” Hajime answers, pressing harder against Oikawa’s chest, eliciting a whimper from the younger.

“How rough Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says between huffs of breath, lifting his head to meet Iwaizumi’s green eyes, lips curling into a smirk.

“Isn’t that how you like it?”

Oikawa’s hands leave his hair in favor of unbuttoning Hajime’s shirt with steady hands. Once he reaches the bottom, Hajime pulls away to slide off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He turns to Oikawa who’s looking at him with evident hunger in his eyes, it sends Hajime’s brain haywire with raw want. He smirks, stepping closer and grabbing Oikawa’s hips roughly. Oikawa slides his hands up Hajime’s arms, stopping over his biceps and giving them a light squeeze, before settling on his neck. He pulls Hajime and connects their lips together in a messy kiss. Hajime curls his tongue around Oikawa’s before sucking on it. The younger moans into Hajime’s mouth, the sound so heavenly in Hajime’s ears that it fuels his desire to make a mess out of the man in front of him.

Hajime slides his leg in between Oikawa’s thighs, rubbing upwards. Oikawa breaks apart and moans, head colliding with the wall in a thud. Hajime smiles and dives on Oikawa’s neck, he works a way of soft open-mouthed kisses all the way up to the shell of his ear. He bites Oikawa’s earlobe tugging it slightly. The brunette’s hold tightens around Hajime’s neck, hips grinding down on Hajime’s thigh desperately.

“Does it feel good?” Hajime asks teasingly. He blows softly on Oikawa’s ear, feeling his body shudder under his ministrations, “am I still a decent case for you?”

Oikawa doesn’t answer, only whimpers slightly with shut eyes. One of Hajime’s hands ventures past Oikawa’s hips, sliding under his pants and underwear past the swell of Oikawa’s ass. He grabs at the fleshy muscle, kneading it between his hand.

“Iwa-chan, _ah-,_ ” Oikawa moans, he drops his head on Hajime’s shoulder, his nails digging on Hajime’s scalp. Prickles of pain sizzle their way down Hajime’s spine in slight pleasure spikes. Hajime presses a finger on the cleft of Oikawa’s ass, grazing slightly against his hole, rubbing the puckered entrance slightly. Oikawa bites down Hajime’s shoulder to muffle his moan, hips stuttering slightly.

“What do you want?” Hajime asks, finger still tracing the rim of Oikawa’s hole. He places butterfly kisses on Oikawa’s jaw, watches his expression contort in pleasure.

“I _ah_ I _hmm_ want-,” Oikawa begins, panting hotly against Hajime’s neck, turning into a puddle of want under Hajime’s touch. In an instant though, his whole demeanor changes, he pulls away from Hajime and looks at him with full determination in his eyes, “I want to make Iwa-chan feel good.”

It leaves Hajime agape, and by the time he regains his composure, Oikawa has already pulled Hajime’s hand out of his pants and has taken off his shirt. Oikawa lays a soft kiss on Hajime’s jaw before swiftly dropping to his knees, hands dragging all over Hajime’s torso to stop at the hem of his pants. He pops open Hajime’s pants, his mouth moving to suck at the tan part of Hajime’s skin not covered in tattoos. He drags his pants down agonizingly slow. Once they’re pooled at his ankles, Oikawa stares at the outline of Hajime’s cock over his boxers. He looks up at Hajime in mischief, before licking up a stripe over the fabric. Hajime’s hands fly down to Oikawa’s shoulders and neck, fingers playing with the soft curls at the nape. Oikawa lays open-mouthed kisses over Hajime’s cock, the fabric turning slightly darker in a mix of saliva and precum. Hajime bites his lips to stop himself from groaning.

“You treated me last time, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa tells him, voice velvet and smooth. He looks up at Hajime and smirks, hands pulling Hajime’s boxers down, “now it’s my time to treat you.”

Hajime’s cock springs free, and Oikawa doesn’t waste any time. He takes the head between hips lips, sucking lightly and teasingly. Hajime’s grip on the younger tightens as he lets out a shaky breath. Oikawa pulls away and licks a stripe from the base all the way to the tip. He takes a hold of the base of Hajime’s cock and nuzzles it like a kid with a new candy, smearing precum over his lips and cheek. The sight sends a shiver all over Hajime’s body.

“ _Hmm_ you’re so big, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa praises, eyes closed and mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

He pulls away, looking up at Hajime, with his eyelashes casting a shadow over his cheekbones under the red lights of the hotel room. Hajime notes how beautiful Oikawa looks like this. The younger takes the tip of Hajime’s cock on his mouth once again, sucking off the precum, before swallowing him down in one go. Hajime feels the head of his cock hit the back of Oikawa’s throat, and when the other swallows around him, Hajime’s knees nearly give in. He groans and moves his hands to bury them on Oikawa’s hair, fingers curling tightly over russet locks. Oikawa bobs his head a few times, taking Hajime to the hilt each time, before pulling away with a loud pop, lips red and coated in precum.

“Fuck Oikawa,” Hajime says between pants, fingers running through the other’s hair. Oikawa takes a hold of Hajime’s cock, sliding the foreskin down before swirling his tongue over the reddened head. He sucks on it again and Hajime watches the bump of his cock inside Oikawa’s mouth. He moans, eyes closing and head falling backward.

“Fuck my mouth,” Oikawa pleads once he pulls away. Hajime swallows hard and bites his lip. Oikawa opens his mouth and loosens his jaw, it allows Hajime to settle his cock over Oikawa’s tongue. He takes in a shaky breath before thrusting inside Oikawa’s mouth, slowly building up a rhythm. The other closes his lips around Hajime’s cock, moaning as his eyes roll back. Hajime feels his body on fire, heat, and wetness surrounding his cock as Oikawa swallows him down, letting him take control as his thrust increase in speed. He’s careful of not hurting the younger, yet whenever the head of his cock hits the back of Oikawa’s throat, he moans sending vibrations over his length. He watches the corners of Oikawa’s eyes pool with tears and he removes his hands from Oikawa’s hair to cradle his face.

“You look so pretty like this, with your lips over my cock,” Hajime praises, thumbs cleaning a few stray tears. Oikawa moans around him and shuts his eyes tighter, starting to bob his head in rhythm with Hajime’s thrusts. When he feels release building up on the pit of his stomach, Hajime gives one last thrust before pulling away. Oikawa whines at the loss, opening his teary eyes and looking up at Hajime. The older drags his thumb over Oikawa’s bottom lip, pulling it down before slipping it inside Oikawa’s mouth. He sucks around Hajime’s thumb, swirling his tongue while not breaking eye contact, making Hajime more desperate to take him. Oikawa pulls away, panting harshly.

“W-where do you have the condoms and lube?” he asks with a raw voice.

“In the pockets of my pants,” Hajime replies. Oikawa doesn’t waste time, searching through the pants still pooled at Hajime’s ankles. Once he takes out both packets, Hajime steps away from his pants. He watches as Oikawa eagerly tears the condom open, and slides it over Hajime’s cock. Hajime pulls Oikawa up by his arm and slams him against the wall, sliding his lips against the other hotly. Oikawa cradles Hajime’s face between his hands, pulling their faces closer. Hajime unbuckles Oikawa’s belt and pants, tugging them down along with his underwear until they pool at Oikawa’s ankles and he’s stepping away from them. He tears the lube’s packet over and pours it over his fingers. He slides his other hand down Oikawa’s thigh before hiking it up and pressing his cold fingers against his entrance. Oikawa moans into his mouth, Hajime swallowing the sounds down. He rounds his finger against the rim teasingly before sliding a finger in. He feels Oikawa clench around him, desperate and needy. Hajime slides a second finger in before thrusting them in and out slowly, he raises Oikawa’s leg higher, spreading him more open. He’s scissoring his finger’s inside Oikawa when he pulls away.

“I-I’m ready _hah_ just _oh_ just put it in,” Oikawa pleads, taking hold of Hajime’s wrists and pulling his fingers out, crying lightly at the loss.

Hajime grasps Oikawa’s other leg, before hoisting him up and pressing him against the wall. Oikawa lets out a surprised gasp, steadying himself on Hajime’s shoulders. The head of Hajime’s cock brushes against Oikawa’s entrance before he’s pulling the younger down on his cock. It rips a moan off the both of them, Oikawa lolling his head against the wall and Hajime against Oikawa’s collarbone. He takes a breath, finding the tight heat around his cock a little too much.

“C’mon move,” Oikawa gasps, gyrating his hips lightly. Hajime pulls out and thrusts back in, hitting Oikawa’s prostate at the first try. The other cries out, nails scratching past Hajime’s shoulders and down his back. He begins a relentless pace, thrusting into Oikawa’s wet walls. He watches as Oikawa moves up and down his cock, his back dragging against the wall with each thrust. He briefly wonders if it reddens his skin, complementing his pale skin the same way the red light in the room does.

“Harder _ah!_ Give it to me harder,” Oikawa moans, head dazed in pleasure. Hajime growls and grips Oikawa’s thighs tighter, until he knows it’ll leave purple fingerprints for the next days, and thrusts into Oikawa harder, snapping his hips in angle with his prostate. Oikawa digs his nail on Hajime’s shoulders, making sure he’s marking the older too and leans into Hajime, moaning right into his ear, “ _yes! Ah-_ _so so good, so big hah.”_

“Oikawa look at me,” Hajime commands, leaning more against Oikawa’s body. The other pulls back, using Hajime’s shoulders as leverage to meet his thrusts. Hajime kisses Oikawa, biting down hard on his lower lip and pulling it without breaking eye contact. It’s what drives Oikawa over the edge. He cries out against Hajime’s lips as he comes against their stomachs, skin rippling into goosebumps and eyes rolling back. He’s impossibly tight against Hajime, pushing him over the edge too with each thrust. It takes Hajime two or three more before he’s coming too, he rides out his and Oikawa’s orgasm, before mildly collapsing against the younger’s body. Oikawa cradles Hajime’s head, placing sloppy kisses all over his face. Hajime grunts, pulling out before pushing both of them away from the wall. He carries Oikawa to the bed and drops him on the mattress. He takes off his condom and throws it into the trashcan before collapsing beside Oikawa, who’s still catching his breath.

It takes them a few minutes to come down from the high, and when they do, it’s Oikawa who breaks the silence first.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be a one-time thing?” Oikawa asks, voice spent. Hajime turns to look at him and finds him with an arm draped over his eyes. Hajime hums and turns back to stare at the ceiling.

“I don’t think a second time will kill us,” Hajime replies nonchalantly, he hears Oikawa snort.

“We know who each other is though,” Oikawa points out.

“Yeah but it’s not like this involves any of our syndicates,” Hajime reasons. Oikawa makes a small sound in agreement. Though he said that, Matsukawa’s advice echoes in his head.

Hajime briefly wonders if he’s setting himself up for a future mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear a part of my soul leaves every time I write smut, it's so hard for me hehe.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Please look forward to next chapter!
> 
> Here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/squeakyotter) in case any of you want to talk, rant, etc. (*/▽＼*)  
> See you next chapter!


	3. Can´t wait for love to destroy us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We could make an arrangement, we both agree sex with each other is good,” Iwaizumi begins. Tooru turns to the other and finds Iwaizumi staring right back at him with a raised eyebrow, “you know, you help me, I help you. That kind of stuff.”
> 
> “Like friends with benefits?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY!! I know it's been practically a month since last update but I was caught in the middle of exams and I didn't really have time to write T_T (even though I really wanted to) but I'm back and with a 10k word chapter too!! And I have a few things to tell you guys:
> 
> **Pls read!!**
> 
> 1\. My AMAZING friend made some very good [NSFW fanart](https://twitter.com/nsr2nsfw/status/1290709551575072768) about last chapter's smut! Please go drop some love and a follow, she deserves it!
> 
> 2\. CHANGE IN SCHEDULE! Since I set the bar at 10k words in the first chapter now I can't really write less, so I'll keep chapters long, (between 7k to 10k words) which means that I'll be updating every two weeks (please be patient!)
> 
> 3\. I have a beta!! So shoutout to [Hinata](https://twitter.com/acblue21) on twitter for putting up with my grammar and spelling mistakes and making sure the chapters are in top condition. Thank you
> 
> 4\. This is double POV, meaning that we'll have Oikawa (Tooru) and Iwa's (Hajime) POV in a single chapter hehe. 
> 
> 5\. THANK YOU THANK YOU for all your support, this has 1.1k hits, and ahhhh it makes me so happy, I'm sorry if I took too long to reply to your comments, from now on I'll reply faster. Thank you for all the hits, kudos, comments, bookmarks, and subscriptions. I love you all <3
> 
> Please enjoy!

_Song: Flawless - The Neighbourhood_

Tooru knows he shouldn’t indulge himself. He knows it’s a mistake. That he’s stepping into the dangerous territory he had withdrawn from six years ago when he begged his father to study medicine.

He knows all this, but when Iwaizumi looks at him through hooded eyes, full of carnal desire. When his fingers graze Tooru’s skin delicately, or marks his skin in red and purple bruises, he finds it harder to listen to the coherent voice in his head. Iwaizumi has a way of making Tooru feel like he’s being worshipped. And Tooru can’t help but revel in that feeling, every bit of it. So he let’s go, allowing himself these moments when he doesn’t have to worry about anything aside from the feeling of Iwaizumi’s skin sliding against him. Because this is purely physical, just means to an end for each of them.

\---

It’s Saturday night, and somehow Tooru finds himself again in a hotel room, pinned to the bed under Iwaizumi’s body, fully naked, as they kiss. Tooru’s hands are snaked past Iwaizumi’s shoulders, pressing against his shoulder blades and pulling him closer. The older bites his lip, coaxing him open and sliding his tongue inside hotly. Tooru reciprocates fully, licking into the insides of Iwaizumi’s mouth with want. A hand grips Tooru’s hips, nails dipping into milky skin with enough pressure to leave marks. Tooru feels Iwaizumi’s cock brush against his, hot and heavy, and so close, but he doesn’t press down against him. Tooru tries to buckle up, just that short distance but Iwaizumi keeps his grip steady, pinning Tooru’s hips down while he devours him. His tongue caresses Tooru’s palette ever so slightly, sending a wave of nerves wracking through Tooru’s body at the sensitivity. Tooru, though impatient, revels in Iwaizumi’s attention. Because so far, no one could set his body afire the way the other did. _This is purely physical_ , Tooru reminds himself, there is no way it could get past the locked door and neon walls of their hotel room. Because Tooru doesn’t want to be involved with Iwaizumi at all, but when his fingers graze against a sensitive spot, or his tongue curls around Tooru’s own, or their lips are pressed so tightly Tooru knows they’re bruised; Tooru decides he can allow himself this one small indulgence.

Tooru’s hands leave Iwaizumi’s back, opting to tour down the other’s torso, feeling each muscle ridge tense under his fingers. He’s about to curl his hands on Iwaizumi’s hips to bring them down because _he needs to feel him,_ when Iwaizumi takes hold of both of Tooru’s hands. Single handedly, he pins Tooru’s hands above his head with enough pressure that Tooru knows he’ll see the faint purple marks next morning. And he loves it, loves being manhandled by the older, until he’s nothing but a mess of pleads and tears drowning in pleasure. Tooru breaks away from the kiss with a gasp.

“P-please, Iwa-chan, _please,_ ” Tooru half moans, closing his eyes as Iwaizumi sucks hard on his bottom lip. He squeezes Tooru’s wrists sending light jolts of pain down his arm.

“Please what?” Iwaizumi asks, lips brushing against Tooru’s. he pulls away to stare at his face, a teasing smirk grazing his features. Tooru closes his eyes when Iwaizumi bites the side of his neck, sucking another red spot and adding to the countless littering over his body.

“ _Please touch me,_ ” Tooru begs in a pitched voice. Iwaizumi hums, licking over the new bruise. He lowers his hips, cock bumping against Tooru’s. He lets go of Tooru’s hips to slide his hand over the two of them, gripping both of their cocks together and stroking in a slow motion. Tooru moans wantonly against Iwaizumi’s ear as his hips stutter slightly. Iwaizumi begins building a pace, stroking faster and smearing precum all over themselves. He’s letting out small grunts of pleasure, lips twitching slightly. He dips down to recapture Tooru’s lips, teeth clanking in the process. Tooru moans into Iwaizumi’s mouth, he wiggles his hands to free himself but to no avail. Iwaizumi just moves faster both him and Tooru thrusting against each other. Tooru feels lightheaded, pleasure sizzling on every inch of his body, clouding his mind into this sweet state of satisfaction. He feels himself starting to get over the edge, a warm feeling spreading over his stomach and onto his limbs like wildfire. He’s bucking his hips faster, and Iwaizumi’s swallowing down any sound he’s making. Then suddenly, the feeling is gone. Iwaizumi retreats his hands and Tooru cries out as he pulls away. He was so close. He looks at the older through hooded eyes and a wanting stare.

“What are you do-,” Tooru doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Iwaizumi lets go of his hands, grabbing Tooru’s hips and manhandling him onto his stomach. The younger yelps in surprise. The bed provides the slight friction Tooru needs to come, and he’s about to rut his hips down when Iwaizumi reaches over, holding Tooru’s dick in a way that won’t let him come. Tooru whines, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes as he turns to give Iwaizumi a small glare.

“Why?” Tooru asks, desperation leaking into his voice.

“Because you won’t come until I say so,” Iwaizumi replies, voice as imposing as ever. Tooru huffs but complies nonetheless, settling for accommodating himself in the bed. He arches his back, and sticks his ass out in the air, hands coming up to slide under the pillow below his face.

“Then make me feel good,” Tooru taunts, lips pulling into a smirk. He slowly gyrates his hips in the air, turning to Iwaizumi with a challenging look. The older growls and grips Tooru’s hips tightly, pulling him with force towards himself. Tooru gasps as Iwaizumi takes hold of his ass, spreading him open with his thumbs.

“Not so overconfident now huh?” Iwaizumi asks, before moving down and licking a stripe over Tooru’s hole. The younger moans lightly, turning to bury his head in the pillow muffling his sounds. Iwaizumi only teases the rim, circling in with his tongue around it. He grips Tooru’s hips in place to prevent his movements. Iwaizumi pulls away, reaching to the side to grab the bottle of lube lying on the bed. Tooru is breathing heavily, he turns his head around once again to stare at the older. He admires the artwork painted over Iwaizumi’s torso, thick lines and color covering the expanse of it. He’d never been a fan of tattoos, but the way Iwaizumi wears them makes something stir inside him with arousal. Tooru teasingly wiggles his ass, smirking at the older. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow before slapping Tooru’s ass, making the younger moan and arch his back more.

Two of Iwaizumi’s fingers circle around Tooru’s hole, before slipping them in. Tooru gasps, hands gripping the sheets. He’d never liked bottoming, but the way Iwaizumi fucked him senseless made every part of it worth it, and he wouldn’t mind doing it a hundred times over. _It’s not right,_ a voice reminds him, but then Iwaizumi is slipping his fingers in and out fast and the thought vanishes, replaced with sheer pleasure. Iwaizumi stops, scissors his fingers and continues, slipping a third finger in. Tooru is biting the pillow, sweat gliding down his face and neck. After a few more thrusts he slips them out. Tooru is panting into the bed, eyes closed and brows furrowed.

He faintly hears the sound of a condom wrapper being torn, and a few seconds later one of Iwaizumi’s hands comes up to hold Tooru’s waist. He waits for the other, until he feels the tip of Iwaizumi’s cock graze against his hole teasingly. Tooru bites his lips hard, trying to push back, urge Iwaizumi to fuck him, but the older doesn’t budge on his hold.

“What do you want, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asks, voice low, sending shivers along Tooru’s spine. Tooru remains silent. He bites back a moan when he feels Iwaizumi’s dick graze his hole again, rubbing the head around the rim, “tell me or I won’t give it to you.”

“Fuck me,” Tooru replies, so lightly that he’s sure Iwaizumi didn’t hear him. He’s mildly trembling, anticipation pooling at the pit of his stomach.

“I’m sorry what did you say pretty boy?” Iwaizumi asks, voice lightly mocking. He slaps Tooru’s ass once again, making Tooru groan against the pillow.

“ _Please just fuck me!_ ” Tooru exclaims desperately. Iwaizumi chuckles and Tooru is about to complain when he feels the head of Iwaizumi’s cock enter him. In one single thrust, Iwaizumi pushes into Tooru’s hole, making the younger spasms lightly at the sudden jolt of pleasure. Tooru’s grip on the bed sheet is strong, fingers scraping against the cloth in an attempt to collect himself. Iwaizumi doubles over, pressing a kiss against Tooru’s spine.

“Move,” Tooru chokes out between pants. Iwaizumi pulls back, both hands gripping Tooru’s waist hard, and snaps his hips forward with strength, hitting Tooru’s prostate, who arches his back and pushes against Iwaizumi. The older begins setting a relentless pace, thrusting forward with force and turning Tooru into a puddle of moans and cries of _harder_ and _faster_. He feels Tooru clench around him, the heat around his cock becoming a little too much.

“ _More, more, yes! There,”_ Tooru chants, eyes rolling to the back of his head. And Iwaizumi’s pounding so hard, rearranging his guts over and over again, pushing against his prostate with each thrust. Tooru, can’t even think coherently anymore, feeling every bone of his body electrify in the feeling Iwaizumi provides.

“Fuck Oikawa, you’re so good, so tight,” Iwaizumi says between grunts. He fucks into Tooru with abandon, once, twice, pushes into the tight heat until he’s not sure where he ends and Tooru begins, “you look so beautiful from here, taking my cock so well.”

The room is warm, thick with sex and sinful sounds of moans and skin slapping. Tooru reaches behind him, pries one of Iwaizumi’s hands from his waist to guide it to his hair. Iwaizumi moans in understanding, curling his fingers into Tooru’s brown strands. He pulls his hair as leverage to fuck the younger harder deeper, and Tooru is pushing back with equal eagerness. The light prickling in his scalp only adds to the pleasure building up inside him. Feeling himself closer to the edge, Tooru reaches over with his hand, gripping his cock and stroking himself in time with Iwaizumi’s thrusts. A few flicks of his hands is all it takes for him to come, trembling completely and riding out his orgasm. Iwaizumi doesn’t stop though, and he growls lightly as he grips Tooru’s hair tighter, chasing his own release.

“ _C’mon Iwa-chan give it to me,”_ Tooru purrs, still in his high. It’s all it takes for Iwaizumi to come, doubling over and biting into Tooru’s shoulder harshly. The younger cries out, closing his eyes and letting Iwaizumi ride out his orgasm, before he collapses on top of Tooru.

“Iwa-chan, I- can’t b-breathe,” Tooru says between gasps. The other sighs, mutters an apology and pulls out. He takes off the condom and tosses it into the trash can, rolling onto the spot beside Tooru. They’re both trying to catch their breath, panting harshly into the silent room.

“Why do we keep doing this?” Tooru asks, more to himself than to the older. Iwaizumi snorts and Tooru turns to throw the other a dirty look, “I’m serious, these past times weren’t supposed to happen.”

“But they did,” Iwaizumi argues, he sits up on the bed and scoots back to rest against the headboard. He picks a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, taking two out and offering one to Tooru, “aren’t doctors supposed to not smoke?”

“I can do whatever I want, plus I usually smoke the organic ones,” Tooru states, letting the other light his cigarette. He takes a drag of smoke in, feeling the immediate effect of nicotine loosen him up more, “and seriously, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Relax, it’s not like anyone is going to find out,” Iwaizumi assures, blowing out smoke into the room. Tooru sighs and rolls onto his back, finding the stickiness on his stomach rather uncomfortable, “not on my part at least.”

“Hey! I’m not telling either,” Tooru complains, glaring at the other who just chuckles. Tooru huffs, and looks at the ceiling, “so, what do we do now?” he asks, not sure of the answer himself.

“We could make an arrangement, we both agree sex with each other is good,” Iwaizumi begins. Tooru turns to the other and finds Iwaizumi staring right back at him with a raised eyebrow, “you know, you help me, I help you. That kind of stuff.”

“Like friends with benefits?” Tooru questions, Iwaizumi nods. Tooru takes another drag of his cigarette, rolling the idea in his head. On one side, he wants to accept, because he knows that what’s going on between him and Iwaizumi won’t transcend the physical barrier. The sex is good and Tooru doubts he’ll find anyone similar. On the other side, however, he’s mildly scared. Accepting Iwaizumi’s proposal would mean sinking a foot into yakuza territory, and enemy territory to be specific. _These are your personal lives though, it’s not about the syndicates,_ a voice supplies. Tooru closes his eyes.

“Well, if it’s too much for your majesty then don’t do it,” Iwaizumi taunts, and even with his eyes closed he knows the older is smirking. Tooru sighs, and lifts himself into a sitting position. He shoots Iwaizumi a pointed look as he reaches over to the ashtray and puts out his cigarette.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I was just wondering if you were worth dropping my hooking up habits,” Tooru replies, scoffing. He stands up from the bed and walks to the bathroom to clean himself up, feeling Iwaizumi’s eyes over him.

“I never said we had to be exclusive,” Iwaizumi points out. Tooru halts in his steps and turns around to give him an incredulous look, hands crossing over his chest. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, amused.

“So you’re saying it would be okay for someone else to fuck me?” Tooru asks. He sees Iwaizumi’s expression harden, jaw clenching around the little left of his cigarette. Tooru only snorts, “thought so.” He comments and walks back to the bathroom.

“Just to be clear,” Iwaizumi calls out as Tooru opens the door. The younger regards him with his attention, “this is no strings attached.”

“Obviously,” Tooru says while rolling his eyes. Iwaizumi just hums, “as if I’d fall for a brute like you.”

“Or an idiot like you,” Iwaizumi jabs back, scoffing at Tooru, who just ignores him and closes the door to the bathroom.

Tooru stares at his reflection on the mirror. At his smudged makeup and the red and purple marks littering over his lower neck and chest. He glides his finger over the bite mark on his shoulder, feeling pain shoot at the soft touch. He sighs. Tooru knows the reasonable choice would have been declining Iwaizumi’s offer and leaving. But he also knows that if he had done that and they had met again, it would’ve ended the same way. It’s a mistake, one he has been warning himself about, yet the least reasonable part of his brain is too strong, and the sex feels too right. As long as he doesn’t tell anyone, it has to be fine right? Tooru thinks back to Hanamaki, his worried expression and the advice he had given Tooru. He feels a slight stab of guilt in his gut. He had to tell Hanamaki, even if it meant getting scolded to no end. But how?

Tooru just sighs and walks to the shower, turning it on, watching the water run. He sets in on the hottest mode and steps in, letting the burning sensation wash away all his worries. Iwaizumi is right, there is no need for him to make a big deal of it. It was just sex. He’s had friends with benefits before, except none of them were deadly hitmen. But Tooru could overlook that for the time being. There’s a knock on the door that startles Tooru back into reality.

“Hey Oikawa, I got to leave, I left my number on a paper,” Iwaizumi tells him from the other side of the door. Tooru wonders if he has to work, he tries to ignore that thought, “just call me if you want to fuck, don’t text me though, okay?”

And with that he walks away. Tooru sighs and rests his head against the wall, letting the scalding water wash over his back. Of course he wasn’t going to text Iwaizumi, they were barely acquaintances, just two people looking for release in each other. Tooru hears the faint sound of the hotel room’s door close. Tooru closes his eyes.

“What the fuck did I just do?”

\---

The realization of what he had agreed to dawns on him on the trip back home. Tooru’s walking through Roppongi’s streets, where the taxi had left him, only a few blocks away from his apartment. There’s a small bubble of panic that’s building up on his chest, ready to burst the more he thinks about it. The need to talk it out with somebody is too strong, but Tooru doubts he has the courage to tell Hanamaki now. He takes out a cigarette and lights it, letting the effects of nicotine take over his anxiety. It’s a habit Tooru knows he should quit, but taking into consideration that he’s basically saving lives for a living, he guesses he can allow himself this. Maybe it’s the same with his and Iwaizumi’s arrangement, just a small karma for the good actions he’s doing.

_“You should never expect anything back after doing good deeds, Tooru.”_

Tooru shakes his head to clear the memory as his heart clenches. His mother’s teachings still follow him to this day, and Tooru tries his best to follow them through, to turn into the man his mother wanted him to become. _Maybe this really was a bad idea after all_ Tooru thinks, grimacing slightly. He’d have to draw out the pros and cons and level them out.

As he nears his apartment complex, Tooru takes a detour to the back alley. He walks until he reaches the employee entrance. Tooru knocks twice, before an employee opens the door, looking at Tooru with a confused expression.

“Umm can I help you with anything,” the girl asks, voice incredulous. Tooru complains internally, he does _not_ have the strength to deal with it.

“Oh just let him in Himiko,” another voice interrupts. Tooru recognizes him as Onodera, one of the older employees. Tooru smiles at him as he walks through, not sparing the other girl a glance.

“Thank you,” Tooru says with a nod, walking over to the elevators and swiping the employee card Hinata had lent him. Tooru pushes the button for the fifth floor and watches the numbers go up. He tries to clear his mind from his worries but to no avail. Maybe he really needs to talk to someone about it. The elevator comes to a stop, Tooru gets out into the breakroom of the Family Mart. He walks to the door leading him to the store and opens it, startling Hinata who was leaning on the counter and reading a magazine.

“Oh, Oikawa! You’re back,” Hinata exclaims, offering Tooru a bright smile. Tooru feels his stress sip out a little. Hinata had always reminded Tooru of the sun, bright and full of energy.

“Hello, Shou-chan,” Tooru greets with the energy he can muster. Hinata looks at Tooru with a slightly worried glance. Tooru curses himself, he knows what’s about to happen next.

“Are you alright?” Hinata asks, eyeing Tooru wearily. The younger goes out of the counter and disappears into one of the aisles. A few seconds later, he comes back with a pack of milk bread, tossing it into Tooru’s direction. The older catches it clumsily but thanks Hinata nonetheless. The orange-head goes back to his place behind the counter, back to it, and leans on his elbows, “you can talk to me.”

Tooru considers it. Truly, he is tired, and right now he only wants someone to listen. Even so, it’s not like he can spoil all this information on Hinata. Especially, when the younger has no knowledge of Tooru’s involvement with the yakuza. Tooru chews on his lower lip thoughtfully, finally opting to tell the younger. He can twist the truth slightly to his advantage.

“Two weeks ago I met this guy at a club, and we ended up having sex,” Tooru begins, watching how Hinata’s eyebrows shoot straight up in amusement. He remains quiet though, and Tooru appreciates that, “at first it was okay, but then I found out he works for my father’s rival company.”

 _Yeah that’s good,_ Tooru thinks, technically most yakuza syndicates operate under companies to keep suspicion away, so he wasn’t necessarily lying.

“And it was supposed to be a one-time thing, except it wasn’t,” Tooru tells the other. He shifts on his foot, feeling worry slowly creep out from his body, telling this to someone “and today I agreed to have a friends with benefits arrangement with him.”

“Are you worried about the rival company part or the no strings attached part?” Hinata asks slowly after a few seconds. Tooru scoffs.

“About the rival company part obviously, there’s no way I’d fall for the guy,” Tooru counters, crossing his arms over his chest. Hinata raises his hands in mock defense.

“Okay, okay. Then you’re probably feeling like you’re betraying your family right?” Hinata asks. Tooru flinches at the question and the other’s expression softens, “bull’s eye huh?”

“It’s just, I have mixed feelings about this,” Tooru begins explaining, dragging both of his hands across his face in an attempt to gather his thoughts, “on one side, I know that what I’m doing is wrong, but on the other it’s too good to just drop it.”

“Well technically, you’re not betraying your family because: one, these are your personal lives, and two, it’s not like you really work for your father’s company right?” Hinata reasons. Tooru hums, not fully agreeing. Sure, he wasn’t part of the syndicate, but it was managed by his family nonetheless. But Hinata was right, this was Tooru and Iwaizumi’s personal lives. Still.

“But-,”

“Oh c’mon Oikawa, live a little,” Hinata chastises, punching Tooru’s arm softly. Tooru snorts. He has been living a little, he sneaks out of his apartment on a weekly basis to go clubbing. But Hinata is right, maybe he shouldn’t worry about it too much. As long as it doesn’t somehow get out of control, he should be fine. “I still have one worry though,” Hinata interjects.

“Hmm what is it?” Tooru asks him. The main issues concerning Tooru had been solved, so he was a bit perplexed regarding what Hinata could be talking about.

“Are you really sure you’re going to be able to keep this whole ‘thing’,” Hinata gestures with his hands at the situation, “no strings attached?”

“Of course I can,” Tooru retorts, mildly offended, “do you have so little faith in me Shou-chan?”

“I don’t, but you never know what can happen,” Hinata explains. He offers Tooru a soft smile, worry curving at the edges, “just be careful, yeah?”

“I will, don’t worry,” Tooru assures, smiling back at the younger. Hinata is about to speak up when they are interrupted by the sound of the entrance bell. Tooru looks at the clock perched on the wall behind him and notes that it’s already 3 a.m. He looks at Hinata apologetically, “well Shou-chan, I gotta leave, and you have to work. Again thank you…for everything.”

“Anytime,” Hinata replies. He gives Tooru a bright smile and settles back behind the counter to attend the late-night customer, “good night Oikawa!”

“Good night!” Tooru exclaims, waving at the younger while walking to the front exit. Once he’s outside, Tooru sighs. Talking to Hinata about his problem, even if they weren’t the closest of friends, had felt liberating. Perhaps, it was the fact that he and Hinata weren’t close friends that made it easier. Tooru knew he wasn’t going to be scolded because of it.

He rides the elevator with his body relaxed. Hinata was right, there was no need for Tooru to make the situation a big deal. If anything, he probably shouldn’t even give it much interest. He was still scared of telling Hanamaki, knowing how much his friend would give Tooru a piece of his mind. But for now, Tooru decided that he wouldn’t worry about it. When the time came, then he would panic again.

After all, both Iwaizumi and him were in it just for the sex, nothing more, nothing less. Tooru had more or less conceded to this the second time he decided to go with the older to that hotel last week. Besides it would be good for him. With the end of summer break just around the corner, Tooru would soon need to be back at the hospital for his last semester of clinical education. And despite not working in the Emergency department of the hospital anymore, things could still get pretty hectic around. Tooru loves it though, every part of it. From interacting with patients to saving lives, being a doctor means he’s doing for society. It was a bit ironic, considering what his whole family did for a living, but his father hadn’t opposed too much. So Tooru could take it as a win.

Once back at his apartment, Tooru changes into his sleeping clothes and throws himself in the bed. He stares at the old faded glow in the dark stars he had placed on the ceiling years ago. Mind wandering on nothing but a slight feeling of satisfaction, he drifts off to sleep.

\---

Tooru is waiting in a café nearby campus, when he feels a hand grip his shoulder gently. “I see you had a good weekend,” a voice behind him comments. Tooru yelps in surprise, turning around to greet the owner of the voice. His expression morphs from surprise to happiness in a span of seconds, and watches his friend take a seat right across from him. 

“Ah Yahaba-chan! It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages,” Tooru exclaims with a beaming smile. Yahaba, smiles back softly at him, folding his arms on top of the table.

“We saw each other for your birthday though,” Yahaba points out, laying his head on his arms, “and we see each other less during class.”

“Yeah but we’re on a break!” Tooru whines, lip jutting out in a small pout. Yahaba only laughs at him, shaking his head. A waitress arrives at their table setting a milkshake in front of Yahaba. Who looks at Tooru questioningly, the older just smiles at him, sipping on his own milkshake.

“Thanks Oikawa,” Yahaba tells the other happily, Tooru nods. Despite being his underclassmen, Yahaba was the person that came closest to calling his best friend (Makki didn’t count because he was like a _brother_ ). They got along really well, often meeting up for lunch or going out clubbing on Friday or Saturday nights. As popular as Tooru was, he didn’t have a large group of friends that he had made throughout university. Sure there were people who admired him, others who despised him, but ever since he started university Tooru had decided to concentrate on striving to the top and prove to his dad that he was capable of becoming a doctor. Somewhere along his third year though, on a joint project with the second years, he met Yahaba, and they hit it off immediately. Then in his fourth year, Yahaba dragged along an underclassman of them into their small group. And soon throughout the next years, it was just the three of them.

“Is Kunimi-chan coming today?” Tooru asks the younger, looking at the empty spot beside his friend, “because I bought him a milkshake too.”

“I hate milkshakes,” a voice behind said, making Tooru jump. The older turned around, smiling at the youngest of their group as he took a seat across from him right beside Yahaba. Kunimi Akira is a fourth year, two years behind Tooru and studying medicine all the same. Unlike Yahaba and him, Kunimi still attended university, not yet beginning his clinical practices. He has the type of personality that generally comes off as cold and indifferent, but Tooru likes him. Granted, it took some time for Kunimi to warm up to them, but eventually he started hanging out with them on routine. Tooru loved his friends, even if he had to hide almost everything about his life from them. They weren’t there for his money or status; they were there because they liked Tooru enough to befriend him.

“Kunimi-chan! Good to see you!” Tooru exclaims, signaling for the waitress, who comes and places a cup of tea. Kunimi raises an eyebrow at Tooru, who only shrugs and gives the younger a small smile.

“Thanks senpai,” Kunimi comments, bringing the cup to his lips and taking a small sip. Out of the blue, Yahaba slaps both of his hands on the table, startling both Kunimi and Tooru. He was wearing a suggestive smile, and the older could only guess where this was heading to.

“I think we ought to go out,” Yahaba declares, leaning back on the booth and crossing his arms. Tooru raises an eyebrow at him and smiles while Kunimi snorts, “c’mon we haven’t gone out since your birthday Oikawa.”

“No thanks, I pass.” Kunimi comments as per usual. Yahaba shakes his head and throws his arm around his shoulder, shaking him slightly. Kunimi frowns and tries to shrug him off unsuccessfully. Tooru watches the interaction in amusement.

“You don't even know where we’re going!” Yahaba argues, though they all know where Yahaba referred to.

“A club probably,” Kunimi guesses, rolling his eyes. Tooru chuckles slightly, because it’s true. Generally, when they went out at night, it was to clubs, and from time to time, perhaps they’d go out to get dinner together.

“You know Kunimi-chan, it wouldn’t kill you to come with us,” Yahaba comments, sighing and dropping his arm from around the other, “at least once.”

“Again, pass” Kunimi says unfazed. Tooru couldn’t blame him though, with how closed off he tends to be. Tooru guesses that being thrown out of his comfort zone to a place like that could result in Kunimi being more uncomfortable rather than enjoying the night. Still, it would be nice for the three of them to fool around like that.

“C’mon, just one time,” Yahaba pleads, clasping his hands together and turning to Kunimi to look at him with puppy eyes.

“You don’t even have to drink or dance necessarily,” Tooru points out, helping his other friend. Yahaba nods fervently.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Kunimi counters, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“I don’t know, chat with the bartender?” Tooru suggests, remembering that Kindaichi is also twenty-one. He would’ve never thought of a scenario where Kunimi and Kindaichi would cross paths, but there’s a first time for everything, “he’s around your age, I think you’d like him.” Tooru adds.

“Yeah right,” Kunimi says, scoffing. Tooru knows he’s bluffing though because he can see the small gleam of curiosity looming in Kunimi’s eyes. Perhaps, they’ll get lucky this time.

“C’mon Kunimi-chan, at least once?” Yahaba interjects, pleading once again. Kunimi only remains quiet, his mouth turning downwards slightly.

“Pleaaase,”

“Okay, I’ll think about it!” Kunimi exclaims, quite exasperated. Tooru stares at the younger, mildly impressed at the outcome. Meanwhile, Yahaba let out a small celebratory cheer while high-fiving Tooru.

“When?” Tooru asks, now fully invested in the conversation. If Kunimi was finally accepting their invite to a club night.

“Friday night?” Yahaba suggests, looking at both of his friends for confirmation. Just when Tooru is about to answer, his phone goes off obnoxiously. It startles everyone at the table and Tooru apologizes before looking at the receiver. His eyes widen when he realizes it’s his sister.

“Umm excuse me, I need to get this,” Tooru says. Both Kunimi and Yahaba nod in unison. Tooru stands up and excuses himself. Worry begins setting at the pit of his stomach in anticipation. He just hoped that she wasn’t calling to drop bad news of something regarding their family.

\---

“Hey, Koemi,” Tooru greets, looking around at the mildly busy streets. He hears his sister scoff over the phone.

“No onee-san or onee-chan? What happened to my baby brother?” Koemi comments over the line, sounding mildly annoyed in a teasing way.

“Hello onee-chan,” Tooru answers sarcastically, followed by a small chuckle. Koemi clicks her tongue and Tooru can picture her rolling her eyes, “what do you need?”

“I can’t call to check up on you anymore?” Koemi asks indignantly, Tooru shrugs although he knows she can’t see him, “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I know, it’s just sometimes you call me when there’s trouble,” Tooru reasons, moving away from the entrance as a few people show up. He begins pacing around the store front.

“That was just like one time Tooru, don’t be dramatic,” Koemi chastises, Tooru chuckles. It’s good to hear from his sister given that they rarely see each other nowadays. He has a good relationship with her despite the gap in their ages, “I didn’t even see you for your birthday!”

“You sent me a gift though,” Tooru points out. He didn’t feel too bad about not celebrating his birthday. He did go out to eat with Yahaba and Kunimi, and later that night… Tooru clears the thoughts from his head, mind coming back to the present, “I really liked it, thank you.” Tooru says sincerely, hoping his voice conveys it enough.

“I figured you’d like it, since fall is just around the corner,” Koemi comments off-handedly. She sighs into the phone, and Tooru has a vague idea of what she is about to say next, “on that note, I do have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” he asks, suppressing the prime need to joke about how he was right. Tooru didn’t blame Keomi for not calling often. He was aware that running part of the syndicate was no easy feat, which kept her busy more often than not, so he knew he didn’t have any right to complain about it. Koemi was in charge of keeping track of their stockholders and actionists, making sure they didn’t get sidetracked or baited by the police or other syndicates. Tooru never understood how any of that worked and he didn’t really have to. Not anymore.

“Father wants to have dinner, the five of us,” Koemi begins. Tooru grimaces, he loves his father, but family dinners rarely ended on a good note. There was always something triggering a discussion by the end of the night. On the other hand, Tooru was aware he also wasn’t visiting enough, and he knew his father genuinely wanted to see him. He rolled the idea in his head, even if he couldn’t deny the invitation, it was nice to pretend he had control over these decisions, “it’ll be on Friday night, he really wants you there.”

“I know,” Tooru whispers softly, biting his lower lip as guilt began pooling in his stomach. He knows his father is getting older, and he’s given Tooru a lot of opportunities he might or might not deserve. The least he can do is go along, and hope that perhaps for once, things wouldn’t be so complicated for their family. It was a long shot, but Tooru didn’t give up.

“At the house?” Tooru asks his sister. He’d rather have family gatherings at the comfort of the Oikawa residence rather than somewhere open. He used to think that if they were in public, perhaps discussions wouldn’t happen in favor of keeping an image. He had been proven wrong quickly after getting into an argument with his older brother in the middle of a restaurant. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, but then again, none of Tooru’s memories with his brother were good ones, “I’ll be there.”

“Thank you,” Koemi says sincerely, relief filtering in her tone. It makes Tooru snort, because as much as he loved his family, he never understood the strong necessity for him to be present at every dinner, “I have to go, but it was good talking to you Tooru, take care and I’ll see you again on Friday.”

“You too,” Tooru comments offhandedly, phone still glued to his ears several seconds after Koemi had hung up. There’s a small lump in his throat, Tooru doesn’t know if it’s his heart or stomach, but he knows it’s an unpleasant feeling.

He chews on his lower lip in thought. It’s only now, that Tooru processes that, as per usual, only five would attend, even though the house’s table is for six. He knows it’s probably stupid to think about, because for the longest time it’s just been five of them. Yet every time Tooru steps into that house, memories of happier days, of silent snickers and hush, of soft caresses and tender words that flood into his mind. Because ever since his mother had died it’s just been five of them, and perhaps the rest had moved on but part of Tooru couldn’t. Not when his mother’s favorite ornaments still decorated the house, or when her chair at the end of the table was always vacated.

Tooru takes in a shuddering breath, closing his eyes to gather back his composure. The sun is glaring down on Tokyo’s street as heat seeps through his jacket. The bustling of the city is as loud as ever, people walk past him, busy in their own lives. For a split of a second, so small and inconspicuous, Tooru reminisces of what it could have been, had tragedy not hit his life 10 years ago.

\---

Perhaps Hajime made a mistake.

Perhaps he’s setting himself up for disaster. Or perhaps not. He couldn’t really tell. After all, he had always been more of an impulsive guy, and the satisfactory release that came along with having sex with Oikawa was something he couldn’t deny himself. Even if his subconscious wanted to stop, his body yearned for it. Not in a romantic way, never that. But in a palpable heat that made his nerve ends tingle in excitement. It had been a while since he had managed to find something like that.

Hajime’s phone buzzed from its place on the kitchen island, the loud whirring hitting against the marble surface annoyingly. Taro raised his head from where he was laying on his bed. Hajime briefly wondered if by this point his dog was well aware of what that sound meant. With lethargy, he stood up from the couch and walked to his kitchen to retrieve his phone. The movie playing on the TV had long become simple white noise to him.

Upon checking, there’s an anonymous message waiting for him. One he knows all too well, and perhaps the kind he despises the most.

_[UNKNOWN NUMBER]_

_Status: Open Contract_

_Target: Kawasaki Ichiro, stockholder of Ichikawa Furnishing._

_Amount: 50,000,000_ _¥_

_Contractor: Anonymous_

Hajime closes his eyes and groans. He despises open contracts. More often than not, they end in a bloodbath and use of more violence than necessary. It is one of the main reasons why he had decided to never make acquaintances among operatives in the ShiDenwa. Because once they faced each other for an open contract, all relationships were thrown out the window. Hajime only took open contracts if Irihata requested him to, and when he did, he made sure to be the one getting to the target first. Working for the Seijoh-kai brings more than enough income even when he isn’t a spender to begin with. His phone buzzes again. Hajime doesn’t have to look at it to know it is a message from either Matsukawa or his boss.

_[Matsukawa]: Irihata says to take it, Kawasaki has some intel we need. The syndicate will also pay you for it. A lead suggests he’s in Cosmos Nightclub, your target should be him and some file folders he’s carrying._

It comes along with an attached photo of Kawasaki. Hajime sighs loudly, running a hand through his hair. Truth be told, he sometimes wishes he could ignore orders like these. Open contracts left him more drained and injured than the usual individual missions. That, topped off with the extra dead bodies left behind (most of which are fellow operatives) leaves Hajime with an unpleasant feeling at the end of the day. Even so, there is a contract to the Seijoh-kai he must abide for.

Hajime walks to his supply closet, routine pushing his muscles to move even when his mind refuses to. He takes out three guns and 6 magazines. With the amount of money offered he knows tonight isn’t going to be an easy task. It’s still early, clock barely ticking past 10 p.m. It gives him a positive view that perhaps, he’ll be back before the night gives in to morning. Usually, his assignments take place around 2 or 3 a.m., yet getting an assignment early into the night wasn’t unheard of.

In a matter of minutes, he’s clad in a black suit, guns tucked in his belt, obscured by a jacket so as not to draw any suspicion were he to encounter some neighbor. His navy blue duffel bag is packed with a change of clothes and a first aid kit, in case something went south which resulted in a grave injury. With resignation, Hajime crosses his living room, pets Taro goodbye and leaves the apartment. The first few floors down are met with emptiness, and Hajime thanks that he doesn’t have to provide any explanation to curious people inquiring about his job. Of course, since the night hadn’t started on a good note, Hajime couldn’t count on luck to keep him out of it. The elevator stops at the third floor, doors opening to welcome an elderly lady. Hajime straightens up. He hopes silently that she minds her own business and doesn’t ask, but he guesses that seeing a young man clad in a suit in the middle of the night could pique a person’s interest.

“My, my, may I ask what a handsome young man like you is going out for?” she asks with a lilt in her voice. Her eyes are staring at Hajime, crinkling at the edges of a smile. Hajime doesn’t know her, yet the way she carries herself is laid back, with genuine interest.

“I’m heading to work,” Hajime answers politely. He never took grasp of the way to direct himself to elderly people, and his encounters were far too few. The lady opens her mouth, ready to question him more but is interrupted by the arrival of the elevator at the lobby. Hajime silently thanks he doesn’t have to speak further, nodding at the elder as she walks out of the elevator. Once the doors close back, his posture relaxes. The night seems to be full with the small things he dislikes, and he worries that perhaps, it truly would be a long night after all.

The elevator stops once again at the parking lot. Hajime walks out straight to his car, a black Mercedes blending in with the luxury of the other cars. He unlocks it and dumps his bag in the trunk, walking over to the driver’s side so he can get in. He waits a few seconds before pulling out a cigarette, lighting it, and turning on the engine of his car. It rumbles to life as Hajime drives out, immediately setting up his GPS to guide him to Cosmos Nightclub. The city is bustling bright and loud, more so with the earliness of the night despite it being the middle of the week. The distance isn’t too long, Hajime notes, since the club is located in Shinjuku, an area he knew all too well. It’s a short drive, not giving him enough time to question how severe his insubordination would be punished, were he to fail this task. He wasn’t going to, though. Even if it meant taking out a few lives, he was rather okay with it.

Hajime parks his car two streets down from the club, in a deserted alley that might come off as suspicious, though if he’s being honest, he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck. Upon walking the two streets up, Hajime quickly notes how packed the club is, and how undoubtedly there will be people searching for Takahashi. There’s a long line of young adults right outside the club, not that Iwaizumi even bothers with it. He takes the longer route, rounding the group of buildings to reach the backdoor. It reads _employees only_ as per usual, and when Hajime is about to knock on it, a sound to his left startles him. He turns around, pulling out his gun from the back of his pants just as a gun flies past him. Hajime ducks, shooting the guy straight on the head, who falls limp onto the ground in a growing puddle of his own blood. Hajime sighs and looks around for any other possible ambushes, but finds no one. With his senses sharpened, Hajime knocks on the door. It opens to reveal one of the employees looking mildly annoyed. Hajime points the gun at the guy’s head. His eyes widen almost comically as he raises his hands.

“Move,” Hajime demands, watching the guy scramble to the side to let him in. Hajime keeps the gun pressed against the other’s forehead, his eyes cold and intimidating. The employee’s hands are shaking uncontrollably and it gives Hajime a sense of slight relief to know that he’s the one with the upper hand, “I need to find someone, Kawasaki Ichiro, big shot guy, have you seen him?”

The employee doesn’t answer immediately; his lips are trembling in unison with the small tremors that run all over his body. But as much as Hajime loves causing fear, his patience is running thin.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Hajime states, voice raising slightly above normal. He clicks off the gun’s safety for good measure. Hajime would never kill a civilian under these circumstances, but fear was effective enough to get a message across.

“I-I don’t k-know, but i-if he’s i-important he should b-be in the p-private rooms,” the employee stutters out, his eyes clenching shut in the anticipation of his imminent death, through gritted teeth, he adds, “second floor.”

At that moment, they’re interrupted by harsh knocks on the door, a gruff “open the fuck up!” sounding from the other side. Hajime curses under his breath, realizing he might not be as early to the party as he thought, which meant he had to be quick. He releases the employee, who runs frantically in the direction of the staff room, probably off to call the police. Hajime didn’t chase after him, opting to hide behind a wall just as the door was kicked down.

Two men walk in, clearly not ShiDenwa operatives if the way they’re dressed is anything to go by. Hajime takes a small peek from his hiding spot to analyze the newcomer. The first one is a tall man with a goatee, who’s pointing his gun around aimlessly. Hajime takes note of the tattoos peeking from under the jacket he was wearing. The second man was relatively shorter, but still taller than Hajime, face marked by a scar on the right side. Hajime notes how the man’s hands were shaking, not holding the gun quite right. He was probably new in the environment, and if this were other circumstances, perhaps Hajime could spare him.

“We’re making good money with this contract, you’ll see Endo,” the first man, ‘goatee’ as Hajime decides to refer to him, says, slapping the second man’s back. He’s wearing a winning smile that makes Hajime question if perhaps this is a first time for both men. They were being careless, not taking note of the surroundings.

Hajime waits until they walk past him, heading straight through the same hallway the employee had left to before jumping out. He shoots Endo straight on the head, red splaying on the walls dramatically, and catches his body to use it as a shield and charge against the other man. Goatee turns around in alarm and begins shooting frantically, not bothering to take aim at Hajime. It’s almost pitiful to Hajime, and perhaps these people didn’t know what kind of shitfest they were getting into when accepting the open contract. Hajime pushes Endo’s body at his comrade, watching him tumble down to the floor and lose the gun in the process. Hajime walks over, kicking the gun out of goatee’s reach and shooting him dead, adding to the pool of blood already staining the floor. The loud music coming from what Hajime guesses is the dance floor drowns out the gunshots quite beautifully, and he’s thankful that he doesn’t have to worry about alarming his target of his presence,

Hajime walks down the hallway, realizing that none of the employees are anywhere within notice, to come across the dancefloor. Neon lights shine through the place in random patterns along with several beams of light. There is loud electronic music being played by a DJ located at the front, on a stage. The place is awfully packed with heaps of people dancing along, too absorbed in their own fun to notice that a bloodbath is about to go down. Hajime finds the stairs leading to the second floor on the other side of the dancefloor. He threads through the group of people carefully, trying not to bring any attention to himself. The air is stiff with sweat that makes Hajime’s suit feel like some sort of sauna. Once again, he curses his work attire and the inconvenience of it. When he reaches the other side, not a single personnel in sight, he walks up the stairs carefully, always aware of any other attackers. He knows the club won't flood in with more of them for another twenty minutes, when word of mouth will notify any interested person of Kawasaki’s location. It’s enough time, as long as Hajime’s calculations of the amount of bodyguards Kawasaki might have is right.

When he gets close to the second floor, Hajime presses himself against the wall and listens for any nearing footsteps. He slowly takes a look, noting the rows of doors leading to private rooms. It is easy to spot Kawasaki’s room, with two bodyguards posed outside and a third one patrolling the hallway. Hajime ducks back and checks his gun, he still has enough ammunition left to take them out, but considering the circumstances he knows he’ll probably need more. Hajime remains hidden, waiting for the patrolling bodyguard to come around. When he’s within range, Hajime shoots him on both legs, gun silencer providing cover as the other man doubles over and falls sideways. Just as he’s about to crash into the stairs, Hajime points up and blows his brains out. He knows it’ll alert the other bodyguards of his presence, but with one less, taking the other two is an easier job. As the bodyguard's body hits the stairs in various thuds Hajime peeks around the corner to identify the other two men’s location. He ducks back just as a wave of bullets hit the wall, knocking off some concrete from the surface. Hajime takes out a second gun and puts the first one in favor of having more ammunition at hand. He takes a deep breath and looks out again, training his gun at the other and shooting one of them on the chest and then on the head, he hides again as he hears the slump of a body on the floor. There’s more bullets hitting the wall and Hajime waits until they stop. He hears a door open, multiple footsteps making their way towards him and he knows that it won’t be only one bodyguard he’ll be facing.

With set determination, Hajime clicks the safety off and rushes out. Immediately, he ducks under the first bodyguard he sees, kicking the person’s leg and successfully knocking him to the ground. Hajime pins him under his weight as he shoots out the other two. Two bullets hit right in one of the bodyguard’s chest, knocking him out, while the other two hit the other bodyguard’s side. Without a second thought, Hajime knocks a bullet into the head of the struggling bodyguard underneath him. He rolls to the side just as a fresh wave of bullets fly past him. From the ground, Hajime takes out another gun and shoots, killing only one of the bodyguards and leaving the remaining one on the floor. Hajime stands up and walks to where the bodyguard is writhing on the floor.

“P-please don’t kill me! We were just-,” Hajime drives the bullet home. _We were just following orders._ Hajime has heard that type of bullshit countless times.

He sighs and checks the magazine on each gun, both empty. He quickly loads a new magazine and steps over the bodies to reach the door. He’s about to knock when two bullets hit him on the stomach and chest, a third one grazing his ear. Hajime moves to the side, leaning against the wall and clutching his torso. Despite wearing a bulletproof vest, being shot still hurt like a bitch. He takes short breaths and feels blood trickling the side of his ear. The door opens and when a bodyguard pokes his head out to see if they had been successful, Hajime shoots him in the head. The body slumps on the ground, leaving the door wide open. Hajime straightens up and bears the pain, he steps into the open room just about as another bodyguard steps up, gun trained forward and _holy shit how many does Kawasaki have?_ Hajime thinks. He kicks him down and shoots him three times as the man staggers back, two on the chest and a third on the head for good measure. In the split of a second, one of the guns he’s holding is kicked out of his hands and before Hajime can react, he tumbles to the ground on a strong blow to his side. Hajime has half a second to recognize a third bodyguard, this one bigger than all the others, pointing the gun right at his head. Hajime rolls to his side several times to avoid being hit before he’s able to fire back. The gun hits the bodyguard’s side, making him waver in his stance. It’s all Hajime needs to fire five rounds of bullets straight at the guy’s chest. The man remains frozen for a second and then his body falls backwards. Hajime pants heavily and stares at the other side of the room, where Kawasaki is cowering in a corner.

“I can give you more mon-,” Kawasaki begins. Hajime doesn’t bother this time and shoots him dead. Kawasaki’s body slumps against the wall, dragging down a trail of blood as he falls to the ground.

Regaining his breath, Hajime sends a confirmation message to the ShiDenwa and begins searching the room for the files Matsukawa told him about. It takes him a few minutes before he finds it on the room’s bed, along with a bag of white powder. Hajime checks the folder for contents and finds everything in order. He picks it up and eyes the other bag. _Well fuck it, might as well take it as self-compensation_ , Hajime thinks and grabs it, stuffing it on the pocket of his suit.

When he walks out of the room, a fellow operative in a red suit waits outside the door. Hajime nods at him and continues his way as the other goes inside. Red suit operatives in the ShiDenwa were often in charge of making sure open contracts were executed and confirming that the person who had sent the message had been the one to finish the job. Hajime was more or less familiar with most operatives who worked under this branch, after all his reputation often preceded him in being the one to complete most of these contracts.

Hajime checks his gun, both still with enough ammunition to last him until he made it to his car. He just hoped that whoever is in the club to kill Kawasaki too, despite it being too late, doesn’t decide to cause a stir inside the club. The last thing Hajime needed right now was to be caught in a crossfire with civilian lives involved. He might be considered a murderer but he still had morals, and civilians were outside of the circle of people he killed for money.

Hajime keeps one gun in hand and walks down the stairs slowly. He’s about to reach the first floor when he finds himself face to face with another ShiDenwa operative. “Iwaizumi Hajime,” the man says, though Hajime doesn’t really know him and won’t bother remembering. He’s aware of how he's regarded as a top assassin in the ShiDenwa, but Hajime has never been one to pay too much attention to rankings. He just makes sure he does his job and that he does it right. They stay still for only a moment, so small someone else might’ve not noticed it, but it was for Hajime to point out the weaknesses of his opponent.

“Are we doing this the civilized way?” Hajime calls out. It wasn’t weird for operatives to kill each other during assignments such as these, but then again, Hajime wasn’t a fan of unnecessary killing. It all amounted to extra work. The operative stares at Hajime back, hard lines marking his face. Both of them have their guns ready and Hajime knows the other won’t go down without a fight, but he didn’t come this far into the assignment to lose his target.

The other man relents, clicking the safety back on and putting his weapon behind him, nodding at Hajime. He relaxes and nods back at the other man as he walks past him. Not even a second passes, however, when Hajime hears the distinctive sound of a safety going off. He merely turns around and shoots at the man, finding him with his gun raised mid-air. His body slumps to the ground. Hajime looks at the hallway to find it empty and thanks that he had brought a gun silencer. The events that had occurred upstairs were rather loud on his target’s behalf, but luckily not loud enough to bring an outsider’s attention. And judging by how they weren’t interrupted throughout all of it, Hajime guesses that Kawasaki had booked the whole floor.

Hajime stares at the dead operative unamused. _What a waste_ , Hajime thinks, because perhaps the man’s life could’ve been spared, but he chose to shoot Hajime behind his back. As if he was going to let something like that happen. Hajime shakes his head and walks off, opting to leave through the club’s entrance to avoid any more unpleasant encounters.

When he finally reaches his car, all the previous rush of adrenaline wears off. Pain begins wearing his body down, nerves pulsing at the places where he had received considerable blows. Hajime leans his head against the steering wheel and takes several deep breaths, trying to get his heartbeat back to normal. He dumps the files on the passenger’s seat and opts to grab his pack of cigarettes. He lights it and drags in a deep breath. Perhaps, out of all the open contract assignments he had done, this one had been the smoothest one yet.

Hajime straightens himself and starts the engine, driving out of the alley to head to Johsei Corp. to drop off the files. Hajime stares at the watch in his car, that it’s fifteen minutes past twelve. He knows that once he returns to his apartment he wouldn’t be sleeping, meaning he had two options. The first one would be to make use of the white powder currently weighing on the pocket of his suit. Or he could call a certain brunette. It wasn’t really late per se, but Hajime also didn’t have a good perception of time at night. He weighs both of his options, trying to choose the one that would perhaps help him more.

In the end Hajime decides on one. He takes out his phone and dials a specific phone number, foot stepping on the gas to finish his task faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this is it for the main foundations and introductions. From now on we'll be seeing more character depth!
> 
> Kudos, comments, and bookmarks are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading.
> 
> If you want to talk or rave about Haikyuu or iwaoi, here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/squeakyotter) (I would love to make some friends!)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. To pave a road on the shoulders of somebody else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There used to be a time when Iwaizumi Hajime had lived a relatively normal life. When he hadn’t been reduced to be the murderer he was now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay a few things:
> 
> 1\. I give up on having a posting schedule. My life's a bit too hectic rn (pls be patient and bear with me!)  
> 2\. 1.8K HITS AHHHH, thankyouthankyouthankyou. You guys are the best.  
> 3\. This chapter doesn't have smut BUT it contains drug use (I by no means I'm promoting it) so as per usual, reader discretion is advised.  
> 4\. Again, shoutout to [Hinata](https://twitter.com/acblue21) for checking this. Thank you.  
> 5\. This fanfic has a playlist! Check it out [ here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7rGRTtyiwBowQsgIyjTVcj?si=TQ0-kn52R1GdD3HdMg57Jw).
> 
> Song: Kill Our Way to Heave - MichL

There used to be a time when Iwaizumi Hajime had lived a relatively normal life. When he hadn’t been reduced to be the murderer he was now.

Hajime sighs, before bringing the rolled up yen bill between his fingers to his nose and inhaling down the line of white powder set out on a tray. He feels a slight burn to his nasal cavity as he pulls away, leaning back on the couch he’s sat on. It takes a few seconds before the feeling rushes in, driving him into a state of euphoria. Hajime feels his brain numbing little by little, loosening his muscles. And for a short-lived moment, his surroundings go quiet. It feels like everything in him stills, seconds of absolute nothingness. There’s not a single worry cluttered in his mind, not his excruciating past, or his current lifestyle, or even his arrangement with Oikawa. During these two seconds, Hajime is in a crafted state of happiness.

Of course, like anything short-lived, it’s over as soon as it starts. He’s launched back into reality, but not in a harsh way that would resemble a splash of cold water. His mind is still hazy edges, and despite his moving surroundings, Hajime feels as relaxed as he can be. Beside him, Matsukawa takes a drag of his cigarette before offering one to Hajime, who takes it without hesitation.

They’re at one of the clubs owned by the Seijoh-kai, along with other high-ranked members. Hajime doesn’t know what the occasion is, nor the reason behind his boss’s generosity. Though he’s not going to complain. Although it hadn’t been long since he had gone to a club, the environment of a private room with a bunch of people he didn’t even know, let alone care about, but were important in the syndicate gave Hajime a small sense of pride. He knows that by no means he’s in an inferior spot in the syndicate. After all, he is the one killing off enemies and gathering intel.

Plus, unlike going to normal clubs, here he has access to drugs. And Hajime is no stranger to substance usage.

He doesn’t care about the effects they might give him, or how he’s perhaps bordering on the line of becoming an addict. It had been long since Hajime had been actually living rather than just being alive. Drugs and violence, he just hopes that one ends with him sooner than later. Hajime may be young, but his past experiences had given him unrelenting ache seeped deep into his bones, and exhaustion ate away at him as time passed. He barely remembers the last time he had a decent amount of sleep without resorting to pills or, in worst case scenarios, some dope to knock him out. He did try to make the best out of the small periods of time when his body would just collapse.

“So Iwaizumi, you bored? Don’t you want some girls?” Mizoguchi asks from his right. Hajime internally scowls as he taps his cigarette on the ashtray. He doesn’t remember how he ended up beside Mizoguchi, probably the person he liked the least, and Hajime dreads that he’ll have to continue to interact with the man for the rest of the night. There is just something about Mizoguchi’s behavior that ticks Hajime off. Perhaps it is his brash nature or his disregard for other human beings, especially women, but Hajime didn’t really care. He just found the other irritating, and throughout his time working for the syndicate he tried to keep his interactions with Mizoguchi to a minimum. Right now, the other man is smoking a joint, with some pretty girl sitting on his lap, his hands are roaming all over her body and Hajime really feels bad for her, “So, what do you say? I might even lend you Namiko here,” he says as he winks at Hajime.

“Nah pass,” Hajime says, trying to wave it off. He’s not really interested in women that much, and he’s not in the mood to fuck around with anyone. Tonight was just a distraction from the stress that had been building up, now having to worry whether the arrangement he had made with Oikawa was a good idea at all. After all, if word did get out that Hajime is fucking the son of the rival boss he could either get killed by the Aobajohsai-gumi or by the ShiDenwa for betrayal. Though Hajime doesn’t want to live anymore, that just seems like a shitty way to go.

“Ah, c’mon, relax, you’re here with people you can trust,” Mizoguchi adds. Hajime wants to laugh, if anything, he’s with people he definitely wouldn’t trust, all except Matsukawa. Hajime just shakes his head and inhales from his cigarette, leaning back on the sofa.

“Not today Mizoguchi, I’m not really in the mood,” it’s kind of a shitty excuse, except it is half true. Mizoguchi looks at him incredulously, as if judging Hajime. Hajime remains unperturbed, it’s not like Mizoguchi judging him would make any difference regarding his lack of interest tonight.

“Don’t be such a-,”

“Mizoguchi-san, I think Irihata-san is looking for you,” Matsukawa interrupts, pointing his chin to the direction where their boss was at. Mizoguchi swears under his breath and pushes the girl, Namiko was it? Out of the way. Hajime smiles apologetically at her as she stands up and huffs, stomping away to another part of the room. Hajime sighs and turns to give his friend a relieved smile

“Thank you, I really wanted to get him off my case,” Hajime says. He picks up a beer from the ones in the center of the table and pops it open, he chugs down half of it and sets it down, “I still can’t believe the syndicate is going to be left with him in charge.”

“Yeah well, we can only hope some sort of miracle happens,” Matsukawa drawls, making Hajime laugh. He doesn’t add that if that doesn’t happen, he probably won’t be working there anymore. He isn’t sure about what his plans would be once his contract end. The idea of Mizoguchi becoming the kumicho of the syndicate is still far from happening. But Hajime has realized that little by little, Irihata has been giving Mizoguchi more control regarding important decisions made at the syndicate. Which in turn, meant that Hajime had to report to him more often too. Oh how he wished he could suck a punch into his smug face. Hajime had concluded a long time ago that Mizoguchi didn’t have half a fucking clue of what he was doing most of the time, and in the long term it would bring the syndicate to ruins.

“True though, you’re mingling even less than your antisocial ass does,” Matsukawa points out promptly using a card to gather the white powder remaining on the tray. Hajime scowls and looks away, dragging in the last remains of his cigarettes before putting it out on the ashtray. Without a word, Matsukawa immediately offers him another one, which he takes, “has something happened?”

Hajime hums distractedly as he thinks back to the past couple of weeks. It’s been a full week since he had made his arrangement with Oikawa and they had already met up once. Hajime often questions whether he should talk to Matsukawa about it. But then again, his friend did warn Hajime about what he was getting into. Hajime thinks that as long as they were being careful, no trouble will arise, and that sounds fine for him.

“Nothing in particular,” he dismisses. He’d rather wait and see what comes out of his relationship with Oikawa before telling Matsukawa about it. He couldn’t do it now, especially not in a place like this. Even if their chances of someone else hearing their conversation was low, “I’m just not in the mood ,” he half-lies. After all, he had more or less agreed to be exclusive with Oikawa.

“Honestly when are you even in the mood?” Matsukawa teases. He rolls two yen bills and hands one to Hajime, moving the tray between the two of them, “well, I say fuck our problems and fuck stress, let’s get really high tonight.”

Hajime nods in agreement before both of them dive down to inhale the powdery substance between them. Just like the first time, the feeling it gives Hajime makes his muscles loosen up. He picks his beer back up just as he leans back against the sofa. Matsukawa does the same beside him and closes his eyes, releasing a deep sigh. Hajime turns his head slightly towards him and wonders if his friend has been dealing with some problems on his end too.

“You know, there used to be a time where the idea of doing drugs absolutely repulsed me,” Matsukawa begins, taking a lazy drag from his cigarettes. Hajime keeps his attention focused although his mind wishes to be far off in a surreal realm. Matsukawa coughs out a humorless laugh, “but I guess life happens and somehow you end up like this.”

Hajime doesn’t answer for a while. He knows what Matsukawa is talking about, he has been there after all. He too, remembers a time when he used to have high morals and common decency. He knows he can’t go back; he never will. The past is the past and throughout the years Hajime had forced himself to forget it to the point where he can barely remember pieces of it. It still haunts him in his sleep, jolting him awake with cold sweat. Whenever he wakes up he cannot make out what he had dreamed, but guessing from his beating heart, short breaths and dread in his stomach, he knows it’s about traumas he has buried down.

“me too,” Hajiime says finally. He’s aware that Matsukawa doesn’t know how Hajime ended up in the syndicate, and in turn Hajime doesn’t know the same fact about his friend. Still, Hajime values the mutual understanding between them two despite the secrets kept by each other. After all, you didn’t survive in this kind of environment unless you kept your personal information to a minimum.

“This reunion isn’t so bad though,” Matsukawa says and turns to look at Hajime, a glint of mischief sparks in his eyes as his lips quirk teasingly, “after all, there’s nothing better than getting free drugs.”

At that, Hajime has to agree.

\---

Hajime stumbles through his front door, feeling his body lose and his mind fuzzy. It had been a while since he had gotten like this, and driving through it was definitely not the safest idea. Nonetheless, the time when he used to care about it had longed passed. There was nothing for him now, except perhaps his dog, but even Taro could do well without him. It had been almost ten years since Hajime had lost his will to live, resorting to destroying himself in the multiple ways he now knows how to do so. Alcohol, drugs, and even dangerous missions. He wasn’t even in it so much for the money. After all, it was meaningless at the end of the day. He clutches the small ring that hangs from his neck, one that brought too many painful memories, but at the same time was too important to throw away. A small lingering memorabilia from the past that he has been running away from all these years and the last thread a part of Hajime desperately clings to. Hajime opens up the front door and walks in. He then proceeds to take off his shoes and leave them on the genkan.

_ “Nii-chan, welcome back!” _

Hajime’s head snaps up, his eyes wide and alert. He looks around the apartment for the owner of the voice, one he knows all too well. It’s the same voice that keeps haunting him whenever he closes his eyes to sleep. His heartbeat fastens and his throat closes up. His eyes move frantically around the room yet he can’t find a single trace of a human being. Hajime groans, clutching his head with both of his hands.  _ It’s just the drugs, just the drugs, _ he chants in his head. Because there is no way, he can’t hear, let alone see dead people. Perhaps a side effect of going too hard tonight.

Hajime drops to the ground, not caring that he’s still in the genkan leaning against his door. Taro’s distinctive steps make themselves known above the pounding inside Hajime’s head. His dog, as if he knows what Hajime is going through, wiggles his way into Hajime’s arms, trying to offer some sort of support. Hajime remains there, unmoving. There’s a horde of past memories that he’s desperately trying to repress. The ones that he’s kept in the darkest corners of his mind for the longest time.

Taro keeps him company for the time being that it takes Hajime to calm down, yet the more time passes by the more he feels like he’s trapped in a cage. There isn’t anything necessarily triggering in his apartment, but he’s starting to feel suffocated.

Hajime takes a deep, shuddering breath, and uncurls from himself. Taro pulls away and waits patiently at his feet as Hajime stands up. He walks to where he keeps Taro’s leash and takes it out. Taro paddles over and sits as Hajime puts on his collar and leash, he scratches his dog behind his ears and walks out of the apartment.

Once he’s out and greeted by a gust of warm summer breath, Hajime breathes out all the oxygen he has and closes his eyes. Taro whimpers impatiently while waiting obediently by his side. Hajime half smiles and fishes out a cigarette from his jacket, lighting it up before he begins to walk down the street with no plan and too much to think about.

He huffs out a humorless laugh. It’s just that sometimes, Hajime would rather be dead like the rest of his family, rather than alive.

\---

“Shhh she’s going to find us,” a young Oikawa Tooru whispers, pressing his finger against his lip as a sign to be quiet. Beside him, a young Hanamaki Takahiro muffles his giggles behind a hand, trying not to give away their hiding spot. They’re both six, full of energy and innocence that one often finds in children. Hiding behind a sofa in the lounge room, both Tooru and Takahiro listen to the approaching footsteps and try to press themselves against the furniture in hopes of not being seen.

“where are you boys?” a sweet voice taunts, the footsteps now becoming louder. Tooru is aware that his mother is nearby, and it will be a matter of time before she finds out where they’re hiding. He looks at his surroundings, his eyes landing on the closet posed a few feet on their right. He taps Takahiro on the shoulder to gather his attention, and points at their new possible hiding place. Takahiro nods and as silent as possible, they crawl out from behind the sofa the moment they’re out of Tooru’s mother’s range of sight.

“I’m going to catch you,” Oikawa (Izanami) calls out, eyes averting to the couch where she had heard small giggles come from. Slowly, she tries to creep in as silent as possible, ready to startle the two energetic boys. “AHA!” She exclaims as she jumps behind the couch, only to find it empty. Soft giggles sound behind her and when she turns around, she finds both Tooru and Takahiro trying to sneak away from the closet they were hidden in. Quickly she runs after them, listening as the giggles turn into small shrieks mixing with the patter of their small feet. It doesn’t take too long for her to catch up to both of them, grabbing each of her children in her arms.

“Caught you!” (Izanami) singsongs, pulling both Tooru and Takahiro close to her chest, smothering them in kisses all over their faces. Both young boys, never too fond of too much affection, try to get away from Izanami, laughing over the feathery touch on their nose, cheeks and foreheads.

“Okay mom you win!” Tooru concedes, wriggling around to get free. Izanami lets both of them go, Tooru frantically begins wiping his face, trying to get rid of the slight slimy feeling that kisses leave behind. He loves his mother’s kisses, but sometimes they were more than any six-year-old could handle. Tooru looks beside him at the newest family addition. He didn’t really understand how Takahiro came to be with them, but he never cared about it anyway. He was too happy about the fact that he finally had someone to play with, or to sneak cookies out of the kitchen with. He had been scared about the fact that after this summer, with his older sister staying at their Tokyo residence permanently, it would be only him and his mother back in Sendai. But Takahiro had come into the picture six months earlier and though he was still a bit shy, Tooru did his best to make his new friend feel welcome.  _ ‘He’s your new brother, Tooru’ _ his mother had said. It made Tooru undeniably happy.

“One more mom, Hiro and I will definitely win,” Tooru proposes, looking at his mother with as much determination as a boy his age could muster. Takahiro nodded in agreement, eager to keep playing. Izanami was about to answer when another voice cut her off.

“Izanami, the car is ready,” Tooru’s father, Tatsuo, announces as he approaches them. Without having registered his voice, Tooru smiles widely and runs towards his father, hugging his legs tightly. Tatsuo chuckles, lowering a hand to card it through Tooru’s hair.

“Dad! Dad! Are you going to play too?” Tooru asks eagerly, looking up at his father with big round eyes. Tatsuo looks at Tooru with a small smile as he shakes his head. Tooru furrows his eyebrows, pouting his lips in hopes of appealing his father into playing at least one round with them. From behind him, his mother calls out to him.

“Tooru, we can’t, we have to leave,” she explains, standing up and taking hold of Takahiro’s hand. Tooru frowns and pulls away from his father to look at his mother.

“I don’t want to!” Tooru whines petulantly and crosses his arms. He looks at Takahiro, who is only looking down with a slight displeased expression. Tooru knows that it’s the end of summer, and that meant that they had to go back to Sendai, just the three of them. Tooru knows that once school begins he would only visit his father and siblings on the weekend, instead of sharing mornings and dinners with them. He never understood why they couldn’t all live in one house, or why after finishing middle school his older brother and sister left Sendai to live here in their Tokyo residence. But he wanted to, he wanted to understand why his mom and dad weren’t together like other parents. “I want us to stay here forever!” he declares stubbornly as he buries his head in his father’s legs.

Izanami sighs, looking at her husband with a helpless smile and lets go of Takahiro’s hand. She crouches right beside Tooru, reaching for her son and taking his face between her hands. She caresses Tooru’s cheek with her thumbs, her touch always tender and soft, “Tooru, you know the rules, we have to go back.”

“But why?” Tooru questions quietly, his voice quivering as if he was going to cry. He just wanted his family to be complete, “why can’t we stay here with dad, nii-chan, and nee-chan?”

“You have to start school Tooru, and besides you wouldn’t like to leave Takahiro alone would you?” she asks, trying to calm down her son. Tooru’s mouth twists to the side in consideration. Of course he wouldn’t dream of leaving Takahiro alone, they were siblings now after all, best friends too.

“then Hiro and I can go to a new school here,” Tooru suggests. He looks up at his dad with hopeful eyes, maybe he could convince his mother so they could stay in Tokyo permanently. His father only sighs and shakes his head.

“Toor-,”

“My, my Tooru, would you leave your friends behind like that?” a playful voice cuts in, coming from the stairs. Tooru’s older sister, fourteen-year-old Oikawa Koemi, approaches them with a teasing grin. She approaches Tooru and ruffles his hair, prying him away from his father and giving him a tight hug. Tooru yelps in complaint and tries to wiggle his way out, pushing his sister’s face away. Koemi laughs and lets Tooru go, pinching his cheeks, “would you leave Eiji, Mahiro, and Shizuo behind?”

Tooru pouts, because his sister has a point. Besides, he wants to introduce Takahiro to them and that wouldn’t be possible if they stayed in Tokyo. Still…

“Maybe,” Tooru admits, crossing his arms and looking away. Koemi snorts, shaking her head at her stubborn younger brother.

“What about the children’s volleyball team, Tooru?” another voice taunts, Tooru’s older brother, Oikawa Hisato, walks into the room, watching the way his younger brother freezes, “weren’t you going to become the captain?” Tooru perks up at that, he looks at Koemi with narrowed eyes.

“I am,” Tooru declares confidently. From the sidelines, Izanami and Tatsuo watch the exchange with amusement. Despite his age, Tooru was a tenacious boy, and despite the general irrelevance the children’s volleyball team had, it was endearing to see Tooru so determined to be the best in it.

“See? You can’t not go back to Sendai, besides you need to teach Hiro too,” Koemi reasons. Tooru thinks about it for a few seconds, before slumping in defeat. He pouts and walks toward his mother, slumping himself against her.

“Fine,” he concedes in a small voice. Behind his back, both Koemi and Hisato throw thumbs up at their parents who sigh in relief and thank them silently. Tooru is still sulking, because he could probably give up the volleyball team for Tokyo, but at the same time he didn’t want to cause his mother anymore trouble.

As if sensing his dejection, Izanami cards her fingers through Tooru’s hair in a comforting manner. “we can always visit the weekends, Tooru,” she reminds him. Tooru nods reluctantly and takes her hand as they walk to the entrance where the car is waiting for them.

Before their departure, both Tooru and Takahiro bid their farewells to their older siblings.

“Don’t cause too much trouble brats,” Hisato warns playfully, ruffling both boy’s hair. Koemi kneels down and hugs them tightly.

“Take care, and don’t miss us too much,” she jokes lightly. When they all pull apart, they turn to look at their parents.

“Take care dear,” Tooru’s mother pleads, holding her husband’s hands tenderly. Tooru’s father nods, bringing one of his wife’s hands up and kissing it before pulling her into a hug.

“I will,” he promises.

“And don’t let anything happen to Hisato or Koemi,” she threatens, worry seeping through her voice. Tooru doesn’t understand why, but at least seeing his parents like this brings him a sense of peace.

“I won’t,” Tatsuo promises again, “you too take care.”

They pull apart, and Izanami moves to bid her two oldest children goodbye. Meanwhile, Tatsuo calls over both Tooru and Takahiro, crouching down and hugging them.

“You are the men of the house now,” he tells them with no real seriousness, “I’m counting on both of you to protect your mother.”

“We will dad!” Tooru declares as Takahiro nods fervently. They all share a small laugh and pull away.

“We’ll see each other soon.”

It’s until they’re in the car, Tooru and Takahiro are looking back through the window of the car as they retreat, when he feels the sadness and nostalgia hit in. and as they ride to the train station, Tooru makes a silent wish that perhaps, someday, his family would be together again.

\--

Tooru grimaces at the memory as he stares at the same house. Some things had changed along the years but the house still had the same air it did back then. It plays with his heartstrings by recalling memories too painful to remember. Tooru is reminded of why he rarely visits anymore. Because more often than not, this house is full of memories of warm summers and laughter. Of playing with his siblings before their relationships became too complicated. When his biggest worry was eating the awful vegetables during dinner if he wanted dessert afterwards. Of a time when he was utterly happy, even if the six of them didn’t live together.

Every time it’s like this. Something small triggers one of the memories he wants to bury but he can’t, and he’s forced to relive those moments again, open up a wound he had closed with bandages a long time ago. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why Tooru is never compelled to go to family dinners, that and the fact that along the years following his mother’s death, his family had become more dysfunctional than ever. Tooru sometimes wondered if maybe he was the only one keeping his family from turning into complete cold-blooded criminals, since he was the only one who shared his mother’s view of the world. It was a nice thought, even if that wasn’t the case.

Tooru is still trying to gather the courage to go inside when he feels a hand rest on his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of pink hair and relaxes instantly upon noticing it’s Hanamaki.

“It’s still hard isn’t it?” Hanamaki asks, offering Tooru the attempts of a smile. If there was one person who perhaps understood how hard Tooru’s mother’s death had hit him, it was his best friend. They had been the first on the crime scene and the firsts to reach the hospital after all. Tooru takes in a shuddering breath and nods at Hanamaki. His friend sighs and gives Tooru’s shoulder a light squeeze, “take your time.”

“I really don’t want to go,” Tooru admits. As soon as he says it though, guilt settles heavily on his stomach, “I love dad and Koemi, but Hisato…”

“I think we all agree that Hisato has a stick wedged up his ass,” Hanamaki says with a small chuckle. Tooru hums in agreement- there used to be a time when Tooru had been close with his older brother, when he had taken a protective role over Tooru. Somewhere down the line, and across the years it changed though. Tooru never felt that change. It had rather hit him hard the first time Hisato had shut him out and told him off. At first, it had been painful, he had been too young to comprehend. But eventually Tooru had learned that sometimes things were like that. Even now, they still don’t have a good relationship, driven by Hisato’s coldness and perhaps a tint of envy towards Tooru. And the younger had learned to fight back with the same amount of force and intensity.

Tooru closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, he tilts his head up as the summer breeze caresses his face, it cools down his nerves and perhaps gives him a will to face what was inevitably going to happen. Beside him Hanamaki is waiting patiently, always a presence in Tooru’s life, strong enough to support him through his hardest moments. And in turn, Tooru offers the same unwavering stability. Tooru exhales and nods, turning to offer Hanamaki a small smile.

“Let’s go,” Tooru says as he begins walking, Hanamaki hums in agreement and falls into step with him. They cross the small garden leading to the front door, Tooru knocks twice and is greeted by their butler who smiles brightly at both of them.

“Tooru-sama, Takahiro-sama, it’s good to see you again,” he greets, bowing his head at both males. Tooru smiles in return as he and Hanamaki do the same.

“Matsumoto-san, it’s good to see you too,” Tooru comments happily. After their mother passed away, both Tooru and Hanamaki had to move to Tokyo to begin working with their father. Although Tooru always felt suffocated by the environment in the house during those years, Hanamaki was the one person who made it more bearable. He had come to acquaint their butler, since Matsumoto was usually the one looking after both of them whenever the house was empty, which was most of the time.

“Your father is waiting for you, please come with me,” Matsumoto tells them. Tooru and Hanamaki take their shoes off at the entrance. They follow Matsumoto as he leads them to the dining room where the rest of their family probably is. Tooru looks around, taking notice of the changes around the house since the last time he visited. He quickly realizes that some of his mother’s ornaments weren’t where they used to be, or weren’t there at all. Tooru frowns, feeling a small stab against his heart and the urge to ask his father about it. He knows that it is about time they did something like that, but they hadn’t done it for years which is why he can’t really come to understand a possible reason as to why his father decided to have them removed now.

Once they reach the living room, Tooru notices both of his siblings and their father sitting at the table talking. The conversation comes to a halt as they walk inside the room. Despite looking tired, which was also quite worrying to Tooru, his father beams up at him, a small smile stretching across his lips.

“Tooru! It’s good to have you here,” His father comments, he then turns around to greet Hanamaki, “you too Takahiro, please boys, take a seat.”

Tooru nods and walks over to sit beside his sister while Hanamaki takes a seat across from him, beside Hisato.

“Hello father, it’s good to see you too,” Tooru greets back, he looks at both of his siblings and offers them a smile, “Koemi, Hisato, it’s good to see you too.”

“Is that all we get after months of not seeing you?” Koemi teases, jabbing Tooru’s side playfully. Hisato only snorts, shaking his head in disagreement. Tooru ignores him for now, he turns to Koemi who’s smirking at him, “is the doctor life too demanding for our little brother to check up on his family?”

“I would disagree, but it is demanding,” Tooru tells her truthfully. Koemi hums, raising an eyebrow, Tooru only shrugs, “beside I’m not the only one that has to reach out.”

“No, you’re not, except you never reach out,” she replies, her tone mildly accusing. She has a point though, because more often than not, she’s the one that calls Tooru over for family dinners. However, Tooru had noticed that this past month and a half, he had barely any contact with his family, which meant that things in the syndicate were probably very shaky right now. Tooru tried not to think about that too much.

A small appetizer is served, and the four of them engage in a light conversation, mainly trying to catch up on what’s been going on with their lives, at least, outside the syndicates for the rest of the family. As far as Tooru’s knowledge of their roles in the Aobajohsai-gumi goes (and his understanding of it), his father is the current Kumicho (has been for a long time), Hisato and Koemi are both wakagashiras*, though Hisato was the one more likely to inherit his father’s role, and Hanamaki was a Shateigashira*. What any of them specifically did was beyond his knowledge, and to be honest, he wasn’t interested to know.

“Tooru, how are you doing with your clinical practices?” his father asks, right after being served the main course. It was the question Tooru had been expecting all night, after all, his father had agreed to let him study medicine under the condition that Tooru did well. That and Tooru’s own need to strive, were the main reasons he had put so much effort in his studies. He wasn’t first place in his class for nothing.

“I’m doing great, father,” Tooru replies with a small reassuring smile. He watches his father’s shoulders drop slightly with relief, “after switching from ER I’ve been assigned in the orthopedics department, and the head doctor is-.”

“orthopedics? Weren’t you going to become a surgeon?” his father interrupts looking at Tooru with a raised eyebrow. Tooru bites his inner cheek, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse. When he had made the accord with his father to pursue a career in medicine, he had agreed to specialize in surgery, and part of Tooru knew it was because his father wanted him to treat syndicate members though he tried to ignore that thought. Back then, it seemed like a plausible request, and Tooru hadn’t paid too much mind to it, desperate to get away from the lifestyle in the syndicate. Looking back on it now, he knows he should’ve bargained to make his own decision regarding his specialization. Although Tooru knows that he’s talented enough to be a great surgeon, along the years he had fallen in love with orthopedics, especially in the pediatrics area. After meeting the head doctor, a bright and energetic woman into her forties named Arima Mitsue, who had taken Tooru under his wing when he first was assigned to the orthopedics department, he just couldn’t think of specializing in anything else.

“Students usually rotate through the different departments, just to get a general idea of the several areas in which they could specialize,” Tooru counters, trying to come up with a logical reason that could make his father drop the subject. It wasn’t neither the place nor the time to be discussing this topic, and Tooru would prefer to do it alone. His father only sighs deeply.

“It’s your last year though, shouldn’t you be in the surgery department?” He questions, looking at Tooru sternly. Tooru’s clutch on his utensils only tightens. He just wants to get this conversation over with, “I hope you can fix that Tooru,” his father reprimands, ending the conversation.

“Yes, father,” Tooru agrees, trying not to let the dejection seep into his voice. He feels Koemi squeeze his thigh under the table in a reassuring manner, even though she’s not looking at him. Tooru silently thanks his sister. Koemi probably doesn’t know that he wants to specialize in orthopedic (Tooru hasn’t told anyone other than Hanamaki and his friends) but she probably guessed it anyway. People would probably call it a waste of talent, but Tooru had never thought that being a surgeon or anything of the like was what made you successful. He believed it had more to do with the quality treatment you gave. Besides, he could be a surgeon too, specialized in orthopedics. Maybe he could bring that up when he finally decides to talk to his father about it.

For a moment, everyone kept eating in silence, trying to get the lingering tension out. Little by little, conversation (initiated by Koemi) began again and soon the five of them found themselves chatting smoothly again.  _ This is nice _ , because for this fraction of time, everything seemed fine between them. There was no ‘the syndicate this’ or ‘the syndicate that’, just conversation about what they had done lately or new drama about a certain neighbor in the area they lived. But of course, Tooru was hoping too much, and perhaps he had been too optimistic because soon enough, somehow the conversation deviated from talking about suitable places to go for a vacation to speaking about what the current situation with each area of the syndicate was.

“Koemi, how was the meeting with the shareholders?” his father asks. Tooru bites his tongue as his sister begins explaining, trying his best not to make a scene. Had it been any other occasion, he probably would have tuned out the conversation a long time ago. However, family dinners were an exception, not because Tooru felt excluded but because there was a rule, one that despite the fact that the person who set it was no longer with them, Tooru tried his best to follow through.

He waited a few minutes to let the conversation die or for the rest of his family to change the topic. It didn’t though, not after five minutes or ten, and as it passed, it seemed more like this was some sort of business meeting rather than a family reunion. It angered and pained Tooru because none of them seemed to realize that they were crossing boundaries that should be respected.  _ So much for a peaceful family dinner, _ Tooru thought, putting his utensils down and clearing his throat loudly. Four pairs of eyes turn to look at him, most of them seeming to remember that the younger was still there. Tooru sighs and picks back his utensils and doesn’t bother to look at any of them.

“I thought we had a rule that implied that anything relating to the syndicate shouldn’t be brought up during family dinners,” Tooru states aloud, trying to sound as nonchalant yet accusing. It was the least he could do after all. His father looked away and cleared his throat, he then gave Tooru an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry Tooru-,”

“I thought that was our mother’s rule,” Hisato cuts off, raising an eyebrow challengingly at Tooru. And this, is what the younger wanted to avoid. There used to be a time when he and Hisato used to have a good relationship, yet lately, those memories seemed to be tainted by the distaste and irritation he now felt for his brother.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tooru counters, glaring at his brother. Hisato snorts in response, yet Tooru finds the situation far from funny.

“That she isn’t here anymore,” Hisato points out shrugging. Something in Tooru snaps.

“That doesn’t fucking mean that we’re not gonna respect it!” Tooru exclaims exasperated. Maybe his mother isn’t alive, yet the way Hisato said it, without an ounce of respect for the woman that raised him and cared for him, made Tooru so angry to the point where he didn’t care if he made a scene anymore.

“Tooru, Hisato-,” Koemi begins, looking between the two males with a worried expression. 

“Oh c’mon Tooru give me a fucking break,” Hisato says, leaning back on his chair and shaking his head. He crosses his arms in front of him and pins Tooru down with a disapproving look, “Don’t you think it’s about time you move on?”

Tooru feels his stomach drop. Move on? It’s like Hisato doesn’t even know what he’s asking of the younger, which he probably doesn’t. But he hadn’t been the one to live the trauma after all.

“Move on from what exactly?” Tooru asks accusingly, narrowing his eyes at Hisato.

“It’s been almost ten years since our mother died, get over it. We all did,” Hisato declares. Tooru gapes at him and looks around the table. Hanamaki was looking down at his plate with a small grimace, probably disagreeing with Hisato. Koemi smiled at Tooru apologetically. It made Tooru’s heart ache because out of all the people he expected to have the same opinion as Hisato, his sister wasn’t one of them. And finally his eyes landed on his father, who was nursing a cup of wine, seemingly unbothered by the outbursts between his two sons. Tooru bites his inner cheek. It wasn’t fair, to him or to his mom. There is no way one can move on from a loved one’s death, especially not with the way his mother had died. And perhaps the prolonged time in the criminal setting had desensitized them to this, but Tooru calls bullshit on his older siblings.

“Do you ever really move on from that?” Tooru mutters slowly, clenching his fists over the table, dinner long forgotten. He looks at Hisato with so much resentment it startles the older male. “you weren’t there, none of you except for Makki and me. What would you know about it?!”

“Tooru,” Koemi calls out. She tries to place her hand over the younger’s yet he immediately yanks it away.

“No, tell me, what would any of you know about it? You were all here in Tokyo, you barely made it in time before she fucking died!” Tooru cries out, feeling the familiar sting of tears behind his eyes. He won’t cry though, especially not in front of his older brother.

“I’m sorry but unlike  _ you, _ Mr. Prince, we have a syndicate to run,” Hisato counters, leaning on the table defiantly. Tooru’s anger only intensifies. It doesn’t justify them not being there, it never will.

“So running a fucking criminal organization is more important that your own family? Hisato are you even listening to yourself?!” Tooru yells lividly, banging his fist on the table. He’s fed up, angry. He feels tears prickle in his eyes more, and his whole body is shaking. He’s aware that the older is probably doing this to rile him up, and Tooru knows he has bit the bait. Ever since Tooru started gaining the favor of both of his parents, Hisato had begun pulling away from his life, severing their relationship in a harsh way. Tooru sometimes wishes, internally pleading to go back to the summers in Tokyo when Hisato would take him and Hanamaki to the park, promising to buy them ice cream afterwards even though their mother told him not to do so. When he would sometimes let Tooru sneak into his bedroom when there was a particularly loud thunderstorm yet he didn’t want to wake up his parents. Tooru wants to go back to a time when he had a real family, not ones where they would meet up for dinner under the pretense of ‘seeing him after so long’.

“What would you know, Tooru? Mr. Prince got his chance to leave after all,” Hisato hisses, leaning towards Tooru with a menacing stare, “you’re just a good-for-nothing, slacker, running around under the false hope of redeeming your shitty reality, which is that you’re unable to accept your responsibilities or move on.”

A chair scraps on the floor as Tooru stands up, slamming both of the hands on the table, fuming. He narrows his eyes, glowering as his lips curl into a snarl.

“Say that again I fucking dare you, you piece of sh-.”

“THAT’S ENOUGH BOTH OF YOU,” Koemi shouts, successfully silencing both males. Tooru stares at Hisato across the table, then at Koemi who’s only glaring at both of them, and finally at his father, who’s not meeting his gaze. Tooru sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Fuck this, I’m leaving,” he declares out loud, not bothering to finish his dinner and beginning to walk out of the room. There are too many emotions mixing in his stomach, mostly of anger, pain, and betrayal. He needs to leave before he ends up doing something he’ll regret-

“Tooru,” his father calls out, making the younger halt his steps. Tooru doesn’t turn around, doesn’t have the courage to. He knows what his father will ask, and like most of the time, Tooru knows he won’t be able to refuse his father, “I’m sorry, please don’t go.”

It’s the underlying desperation that convinces him to stay. Tooru lets out a defeated sigh and turns to look at his father, mustering a small smile. He’s glad that his family doesn’t know him well enough to distinguish the real ones from the fake. And perhaps, Hisato was right about him. That was what his life had come to after all, forcing him to put a façade in front of everyone. Well, except Hanamaki. His best friend eyed him worryingly. Tooru appreciates it though, he knows that at least there’s one person that knows him and has his back.

“I’ll go take a smoke,” Tooru says and walks out of the dining room, heading immediately for the stairs that lead to the second floor. He passes the door of what used to be his bedroom, which probably hasn’t changed ever since he left the household when he began university. He continues down the hall until he reaches the glass doors to the balcony. When he opens them, he’s met with a gust of wind, caressing his limbs and making him shiver lightly. Tooru walks over to the railing and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter from the pocket of his pants. He lights it and takes a long inhale, holding the smoke and letting go, hoping his body loosens up.

He’s exhausted, both physically and emotionally, he just wants to go home and sleep it off or laze around. He’ll wait a few minutes, until his father heads off with his older siblings to discuss some topics regarding the syndicate and he’ll leave.

As if on cue, he watches his father walk out into the garden, both Koemi and Hisato trailing after him. Tooru didn’t even bother trying to make out what they were talking about, he didn’t care at all. Just as he turns around, he watches Hanamaki walk into the balcony, probably to check up on him and provide some company. He smiles ruefully at Tooru, settling himself against the railing, on his side. He pulls out his own pack of cigarettes and lights one too.

“What a night huh?” he comments, chuckling dryly. Tooru snorts in agreement, it’s not like he was expecting anything else. This was how things usually went. After a few brief seconds of silence between them Hanamaki clears his throat, “are you okay?”

Tooru takes another drag of his cigarettes. Hanamaki is watching him intently, waiting for his answer. Tooru shakes his head.

“Not really,” Tooru admits. It lifts a small weight off his shoulders. Hanamaki places a comforting hand on Tooru’s shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, voice soft. Tooru shakes his head.

“Not really,” he answers. These were the types of things Tooru preferred shoving to the back of his mind, even if they would pile up and eventually overflow. He looks at his best friend, looking serene against the nightlife. To this point, Tooru can barely recall a time when Hanamaki hadn’t been in his life, offering support and Tooru giving him the same in return. He was probably more of a brother to Tooru than his actual siblings were. Tooru suddenly remembers about his arrangement with Iwaizumi and is hit with guilt. It had been a week at most yet he hadn’t been able to muster up the courage to tell Hanamaki. Now was a good time to do it though.

“Actually, Makki,” Tooru calls out hesitantly. The pink-haired male turns his attention to Tooru, curious. Tooru gulps, “there is something I want to talk to you about.”

“Shoot,” Hanamaki says, eyes not leaving Tooru. He takes a shaky breath; he has no idea how Hanamaki will react so he decides to brace himself for the worst.

“So you know how I slept with Iwaizumi right?” Tooru begins, he watched Hanamaki frown in confusion, but nods to let Tooru continue, Tooru turns and grips the railing to keep his hands from shaking, “I agreed to be friends with benefits with him.”

Hanamaki gapes at him slightly, before shutting his mouth. He doesn’t talk immediately, just stares at Tooru as if searching for something. The other squirms under his friend’s gaze, not sure what Hanamaki’s thinking. A few minutes pass, and Tooru’s anxiety at the whole situation only grows. He hates being like this.

“say something,” Tooru urges, voice small. At last, Hanamaki sighs and runs a hand over his face,

“Tooru are you fucking serious?” Hanamaki questions, making Tooru flinch. Hanamaki ignores him and grips both of his shoulders and shakes him, “do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

“I-,”

“No, listen to me,” Hanamaki interrupts. He releases Tooru and leans against the railing, taking a drag of his own cigarette, “he’s not only the biggest contract killer in the game, but he’s also working for the Seijoh-kai, do you know what would happen if anyone found out?”

Tooru opens his mouth to argue but shuts it upon realizing that he has no idea. It must show on his face because Hanamaki sighs and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“There are three possible outcomes and none of them are pretty,” Hanamaki tells him, direct and without sugarcoating his words, “one: he gets killed by our syndicate. Two: The ShiDenwa and his syndicate kills him for treason, and number three, you can get killed by the Seijoh-kai.”

Tooru blanches at the last one. If they killed him, then a gang war was sure to happen. He didn’t want that, gang wars tended to involve the loss of civilians, and technically, it would all be Tooru’s fault.

“But these are our personal lives! I’m not affiliated to the syndicate anymore!” Tooru counters. He has never understood the way the rules in that world works, or why getting involved with someone without ulterior motives would result in something as big and disastrous as a gang war. Hanamaki sighs and shakes his head.

“Do you think your father would let him live if he found out?” His friend asks, seriousness in his expression. Tooru bites his lip, he knows the answer to that, of course his father would kill Iwaizumi. Heck he could easily try to bring the Seijoh-kai to the ground. Hanamaki takes his silence as an answer, “thought so,” he comments. Tooru groans loudly.

“Fuck! what do I do?” He asks desperately, digging the heel of his hands into his eyes. Tooru knew, deep down he knew it was a bad idea, but at the same time it seemed so tempting, like something he could get away from without his family interfering. But Hanamaki is right, because Tooru has never been in full control of his life, he’s just had a small taste of it. The small things he could do behind his father’s back, like going out clubbing or this ordeal with Iwaizumi. They weren’t good by any means, but Tooru would take any chance at freedom that he could get.

“Call it off,” Hanamaki replies, shrugging. It was the logical answer, the one that would save Tooru from future problems and endless possibilities that could end up disastrously. Even so, he isn’t ready to let go of that thread of hope just yet.

“But-,” he begins. Hanamaki sighs and holds up one hand in front of Tooru to stop him.

“Look Tooru, I can’t tell you what to do, and I’ll support you no matter what you do,” Hanamaki tells him, giving Tooru a small reassuring smile. Tooru squashes his cigarette against the railing and turns to his friend, feeling guilt bubble in his stomach. Hanamaki holds Tooru’s shoulders tightly, trying to garner the other’s attention as much as possible, “but please, I’m begging you, think about it,” he pleads, eyes casting worry. Tooru smiles and pulls Hanamaki into a hug.

“Thanks Makki,” he whispers sincerely. Hanamaki chuckles.

“No problem,” he dismisses. They pull away, yet Hanamaki looks like he’s about to ask something, so Tooru braces himself for the question, “why are you hesitating on calling it off though?”

It’s a valid question. There is a lot at stake if Tooru decides to continue whatever he has with Iwaizumi. Nonetheless, he knows that Hanamaki will probably understand his line of reasoning.

“It’s just, he adds some spice to my life y’know?” Tooru begins, looking down to the garden where his father and siblings were still talking. Hanamaki hums, urging Tooru to continue. Tooru laughs bitterly,“it kind of feels like going against my father’s wishes even if he doesn’t know. Like having something he doesn’t control.”

Hanamaki snorts.

“Please think about it,” Hanamaki repeats, less desperately this time. He turns to look down the garden too, “but if you do decide to continue, then, please Tooru.”

“What?” Tooru asks, looking at Hanamaki briefly. 

“Don’t catch feelings, then things could get really fucked up,” Hanamaki finishes. Tooru knows, without anyone telling him, he knows that if he catches feelings, it’s game over for him. He views it as a far-fetched idea, but better being safe than sorry.

“Don’t worry Makki, I won’t,” Tooru reassures, offering his friend a cheeky smile, “thanks for helping me.”

“You know I’m always here for you,” Hanamaki reminds him, even if Tooru is perfectly aware of it. After all, if it was the other way around and Hanamaki came to him with the same problem, Tooru would try his damn best to help his friend out.

“Yeah, me too.” Tooru tells him. Hanamaki smiles at him, grabbing his wrist and tugging him away from the railing and back into the house.

“Now let’s go back down, I heard there was cake to celebrate your birthday, and I’m not leaving without eating at least two pieces of it.”

Tooru’s laugh echoes in the empty house, feeling his mood superficially better, even if the worries of the imminent trouble loomed in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Shateigashira: The leader of the kyodai (the brothers). He sees to it that the kyodai do their duties well for the yakuza clan.  
> *Wakagashiras: waka gashira Middle man (lieutenants) in practice right under the Yakuza clan leader, the oyabun. The waka gashira sees to it that the oyabun's orders are carried out correctly by the wakashu.  
> [Here](https://shadowrun.fandom.com/wiki/Japanese_Terminology_\(Yakuza\)) if you want to see more on Yakuza terminology and ranks.  
> \----  
> Ahhhh we got to look a little into Tooru's life heh. Don't worry Haji will get his spotlight too. I hope you liked it! And that you look forward to the next chapter.
> 
> Kudos, comments and shares are very much appreciated :)
> 
> Btw I made a [Carrd](https://wasureukiyo.carrd.co/) in case you want to get to know me and my social media and so. (it's still a work in process tho).
> 
> Welp, until the next one!


	5. 'Cause you and I—we were born to die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Isn’t this too intimate for our arrangement?” Iwaizumi questions as he pulls away, he opts to run his fingers through Tooru’s hair, still slightly damp from his previous shower. Tooru stops his hand and just hums.
> 
> “Maybe, but after everything we’ve done, I don’t think a little bit of intimacy would hurt,” Tooru reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's the same as the fic's summary :D  
> I guess that an apology is long overdue, it's been about two months and a half but hey, I haven't given up on this fic and I'm not planning to. I just have periods of zero motivation to do anything fanfic-related, I've also put a lot of thought into this fic, whether it's worth it or where I want to take it, and I'll try my best to make it even better. I won't have a posting schedule because again, my mood can waver from time to time, but thank you if you're sticking around for the wait :D
> 
> Also, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU, I can't believe this is over 3k hits and 150 kudos?? Thank you so much, sincerely. Also, I see that around 100 persons are subscribed to this, so thank you really. I cant even fathom that. I'm glad you're giving this fic of mine a try. I'm sorry if I haven't replied to comments, but I'll do it asap (after I post this). Again, I cant thank you enough, you are what keep me going heh.
> 
> Now, onto the fic, I hope you like it!! Thanks to [Hinata](https://twitter.com/acblue21) for being an amazing beta and revising this!  
>  **Trigger Warnings: Drug use, violence, and sex.**
> 
> Song (Title too): [Born to die - Lana del Rey](https://open.spotify.com/track/4Ouhoi2lAhrLJKFzUqEzwl)

Hajime walks through the front door of his apartment after an entire day at the office. It’s not usual that he has to head in and pretend he’s some sort of businessman when in reality he’s carried out more kills than the average yakuza in Tokyo. There had been all sorts of meetings, and though he had been absent-minded in most of them, it still wore him down. 

Hajime drops his briefcase in the genkan, taking off his shoes and setting them aside. He begins loosening his tie as he walks directly to the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the lights. Taro patters from his bed to get to him at his feet. He barks once as if to make his presence known to Hajime. 

“Yes, I know,” Hajime tells him, opening one of the cabinets and taking out Taro’s food. He picks up his dog’s plate from the kitchen floor and serves him a cup. Right after setting it down, Taro begins eating eagerly, his tail wagging. Hajime snorts as he picks up the water plate to refill it. For such an intimidating dog, Taro could surely act like a puppy sometimes. It was only with him though; Hajime tries to recall if there is any other person his dog relaxes around, yet he can’t come up with a single person. Not even Matsukawa could do that, even though he was the only person who frequented Hajime’s apartment. At least outside, Taro behaved, only growling when someone got too close to Hajime. He didn’t blame his dog though, Taro was probably protective of him since Hajime had rescued him around three years ago, when he had found the dog abandoned and malnourished. Though he had hesitated about taking Taro in with him (because back then Hajime could barely look after himself, let alone another living being), he had eventually conceded. It had been a good decision though, because although Hajime had a hard time adjusting to the new lifestyle, Taro did help him get better habits. Now, Hajime can’t imagine not having him around.

Hajime sets the plate down and pats Taro’s head, straightening up and walking to the fridge. He takes out a beer and heads directly to the living room. He plops down on the sofa and turns on the TV, aimlessly flicking through the different channels. A few minutes later Taro joins him, jumping onto the sofa and settling his head on Hajime’s thighs. Hajime takes a swig of his beer, deciding to watch some old American film. He’s barely paying attention, opting to lean his head back and close his eyes. He feels tired, not the kind that makes you sleepy, but the kind that wears you down to exhaustion. It doesn’t matter how much he wants it, he knows sleep won’t come for a while, it rarely does. His nights are often made up of half naps and a lot of TV and beer. And if he’s got an assignment he does that. Hajime often waits for the days of exhaustion to accumulate, until it sends him dropping dead on his bed for a few hours of dreamless sleep. It’s not healthy, but it’s the only way he can cope with his insomnia.

He’s somewhere between napping and awake when his phone goes off obnoxiously. It startles Taro, who shoots up in alarm. Hajime smiles apologetically and picks up his phone, knowing exactly what the call means. He doesn’t speak, he never has to. It’s a one-way call, fast and efficient. 

“Good evening, we call to require your services. Your objective is a set of virtual files in possession of Fujioka Ouri. Location is the Soyokaze Apartments in Yokohama. It’s the fifth floor, #43, medium security, police vicinity in the area. Kill only if necessary.” 

The call ends, and Hajime’s night begins. Taro dutifully lifts himself from Hajime’s lap and walks over to his bed, plopping down. Hajime’s quick in his preparation, efficient as usual. Within 10 minutes, he’s out of his apartment, ready to face what this world of chaos has to offer. To Hajime, the thing about working as a hitman is not about the money or the recognition. He had too much of those and too little interest. But the rush, to wonder whether this one mission would be the endgame for him, is what keeps him there. Down in the lowest levels of humanity.

Hajime knows the area, fancy in a modest sense and skimming along the edges of the Aobajohsai-gumi’s area of control. Perhaps this mission had to do with said syndicate. He briefly thinks back to a certain brunette beauty, all sass and venom with a twinge of lonesomeness in his heart. Oikawa might not be officially part of the Aobajohsai-gumi, but with his familial background it was impossible for the younger to ignore it. The syndicate was ruthless in its methods, but very rewarding to its members. Maybe it was the main factor where that and the Seijoh-kai differed. Hajime personally didn’t have anything against the Aobajohsai-gumi, but he was working for one of its rivals. So as long as the contract he has stays active, Hajime would have to hate it. Tear it down piece by piece until gravel remains.

Hajime parks his car a few streets down, where the flow of people isn’t as big, but still enough to stop him from looking suspicious. He gets down and walks the remaining distance to the apartments, gun tucked in the back of his pants just in case he might need it. Today was more about being as clean as possible with his kills. Despite the call stating only to kill if necessary, Hajime knows that with medium security, he wouldn’t be leaving the place without his hands dirtied in blood. It’s how it has always been in a world like that.

Hajime slows down as he reaches the apartment complex, looking around for anybody who might live there. He watches a woman walk up, and from her appearance Hajime can easily tell that she’s coming home from work. Hajime waits for her to walk into the apartment building, before walking in after her, trying his best to look like her companion. She stands in front of the elevator, Hajime reaches her side and offers her a friendly smile. The woman returns it, and looks away, not asking Hajime questions much to his relief. The elevator signals its arrival and both step in. Hajime pushes the button for the fifth floor, thankful that the woman seems to be getting off at the second one. Hajime would never kill a civilian, especially if they’re oblivious to the underground business carried out by the yakuza, but she would definitely call the police and well, that would be a difficult situation to get out of. One that would involve more than just bodyguards losing their lives.

The woman gets off on the second floor, allowing Hajime to briefly relax. Even if she had tried to make small talk Hajime knows he could’ve lied his way through it, it was easy, but the less traces he left behind the better it would be for him. All of his murders remain unsolved, some even praised by the media as acts of justice whenever he got rid of another criminal. To him, it was just work, another drop of water into the pond of death he had made. The elevator stops at the fifth floor and the door opens. Door number 43 is right at the beginning, three doors down from the elevator. Hajime reaches it and checks his watch. It marks 8:17 p.m. It’s early for a job, and he has to take into consideration that most of the people in the apartment complex are probably still awake, but he has no choice now. Hajime closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, he pulls out one of his knives, flipping the blade out. He knocks on the door and waits for the other person, a bodyguard definitely, to ask who he was before shouting a “delivery”. Hajime moves to the side, waiting for the door to open. When it does, a buff man comes out partially and looks both sides in search for Hajime, who takes the opening as an opportunity. He moves forward, slapping a hand over the bodyguard’s mouth and pushes him against the doorframe, driving his knife into the bodyguard’s throat. Hajime doesn’t waste a second and pulls it out, jumping backwards just as a smaller knife flies in front of his face, landing on the opposing wall in the hallway. He waits a second before running into the room, heading straight towards one of the other bodyguards. He scans the room and finds three more. Two, a tall man with a shaved head and a small but buff one, protecting who Hajime guesses is Fujioka and the other, a bald man, ready to attack Hajime. He spins around and pulls the man he’s fighting with to use him as a shield just as the bald bodyguard throws a knife at him. The man screams as the knife lands on his back. Hajime quickly slashes his neck and runs towards the bald bodyguard, throwing his dead partner at him to knock his balance off. As the man staggers back, Hajime throws the knife, landing a successful blow on his skull. _Two more to go._

He’s about to turn around when he feels a heavy weight on his back that sends him tumbling down to the floor. Hajime rolls around just as the smaller bodyguard drives a knife to the floor, tearing his suit and almost slashing part of his shoulder. Hajime grabs the man’s wrist just as he’s about to strike again, struggling to hold the other’s arm still. Hajime is aware that if he doesn’t do something he’s going to die. He quickly brings his knee up with strength, knocking the bodyguard’s head and making him fall to the side. Hajime reverts their positions and pushes down the man’s hand to drive the knife into his chest. The bodyguard struggles against Hajime who brings his arm down in an attempt to push the knife down. It barely sinks in the first time, so he pushes down a second time, sinking the knife deeper. The bodyguard’s hold slackens just as Hajime brings his hand down a third time, successfully stabbing the man’s chest and killing him.

Hajime sits up, running his wrist over his forehead to clean off the sweat when he has half a second to move out of the way upon hearing a gun’s safety click. He barely dodges the bullet coming his way, rolling away a few times to waste the rounds on the magazine. Even with a silencer, Iwaizumi knows that someone in the building should probably have heard the commotion inside and called the police, meaning Hajime didn’t have time to waste if he wanted to complete the assignment. He quickly stands up and charges towards the last bodyguard while he’s still reloading.

He tackles him to the ground just as the guard shoots, missing the bullet just by a little. Hajime quickly stands up, taking hold of the man’s extended arm and pulling in, ripping the gun out of his hand. The bodyguard grabs Hajime’s shoulder in return and knees him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. As Hajime stumbles back, the guard moves to kick him but Hajime manages to catch his leg. The other man throws in a punch but Hajime takes his arm with his free hand and flips him into the ground. Hajime straddles him and punches him repeatedly. The guard struggles under him, reaching into the side of his leg to pull out a knife. Hajime dodges what would’ve certainly been a stab on the face and quickly disarms the other, taking the knife on his own hands. With a quick movement, he drives it into the bodyguard’s throat and pulls it out, blood splattering all over his suit, as the man struggles to fight for his life.

Hajime stands up, and turns to look at Fujioka, who’s just cowering in one corner of the room. He could kill him, it wouldn’t be hard to do so, but Hajime doesn't. He doesn’t know if Fujioka is acting on his own or whether he belongs to another syndicate. Instead, Hajime walks over to him and yanks him up by the shirt. Fujioka is frozen in place, unable to utter a single word. It’s always funny how they act all mighty with their bodyguards, but turn into beggars once Hajime finishes them off. It’s breaking down a person to their most desperate state what gives Hajime satisfaction.

“Listen, if you want to live, you better stay the fuck here,” Hajime says, punctuating each word with a menacing glare. Fujioka nods fast and Hajime lets go, drooping the other on the floor. He looks around the room for the computer or laptop that should contain the files he’s looking for. He spots it at the corner of the room, he walks towards it and starts it up. “Fujioka, what’s the password?” Hajime shouts across the room, the other begins stuttering something incomprehensible and Hajime doesn’t have neither the time nor the patience for it. “Fujioka, speak loud and clear, I can't understand you.”

“It’s fujisan04%09#, with uppercase F,” the other says, louder this time. Hajime inserts it and soon the main screen pops up. He begins scanning the documents, typing in codes to find the probably encrypted files. After a few seconds, it pops up. Hajime clicks on it to scan the contents. Except that, when he reads the titles, he freezes up, feeling a chill run up his spine.

_‘Sendai Killings’, ‘Sendai victims’, ‘Event data’, ‘Evidence found by police’_

Hajime doesn’t understand what those files are doing there, or why the Seijoh-kai needed them. As far as he knows, and as far as the intel he has gathered along the years tell, the Sendai killings had been an event between the Aobajohsai-gumi and the Shiratorizawa-kai. There is no reason for the Seijoh-kai to be searching them. But then again, in this world, he didn’t know everything, he couldn’t. It’s something Hajime has always known but never put serious thought into. And now that this is out in the open, it’ll be ingrained into his mind for the weeks to come, gnawing at his conscience to investigate further. Matsukawa might have some intel about it, but Hajime isn’t sure until where the other crosses the line with what kind of information he can disclose. They might be friends from years, but Matsukawa is very capable of separating his personal and business life without compromising the other. Hence, if there is an important piece of information from the syndicate that Hajime needs, Matsukawa won’t be the one providing it to him. This piece of intel is something he’ll probably have to investigate on his own later.

Now, he’s concentrating on getting the data as fast as possible. He fishes out the USB he uses for intel and a personal one, and plugs them both. He doesn’t know if he’ll be granted access to this information once he turns in the USB, so Hajime prefers the idea of keeping a copy for himself to look over after. While the data transfers, Hajime moves away from the computer and walks to where Fujioka is.

“Who do you work for?” Hajime questions, looking at Fujioka menacingly, who jumps in place upon being called.

“W-what?” Fujioka stutters out, eyes wide. Hajime sighs and closes his eyes briefly.

“I asked, who do you work for? Is it a syndicate? Are you on your own?” Hajime asks, feeling his patience run thin. He wants answers, and the first step is asking the man who had the intel, “how did you get this information?”

“I-I didn’t-,” Fujioka begins. Hajime grabs the other by the shirt and pulls him up, full on glaring at Fujioka.

“I asked how the fuck did you get this information?” Hajime asks again, punctuating every word carefully, trying to get Fujioka to understand that he isn’t playing around.

“Wh-what?”

“I fucking swear Fujioka if you say ‘what’ one more time, I’m shooting you right here!” Hajime shouts, ready to pull out his gun. It seems to do the trick because Fujioka begins fumbling to tell Hajime everything he knows.

“I-I’m not a-affiliated to any s-syndicate, I-I’m a messenger and I was assigned to provide t-this intel to the A-Aobajohsai-gumi,” Fujioka begins, talking fast. It doesn’t faze Hajime, who’s listening intently, “t-they set me up w-with b-bodyguards, a-and t-that’s it.”

What Fujioka says seems to hold some fair amount of truth, granted that Hajime couldn’t completely trust what the other one is saying, especially when his life is hanging by the line. Nonetheless, he decides to take that info, letting Fujioka slump back against the wall to walk back to the computer. Once both USBs are ready, Hajime puts them away, and walks back to where Fujioka is.

“If you tell one single soul about this, I will find you and kill you,” Hajime threatens, looking as serious as he can. Fujioka nods his head and begins thanking him, which the other ignores. It’s not the first time Hajime has spared someone’s life. It’s not an unpleasant feeling like killing, but it isn’t pleasant either. These are still persons who work underground, and even if they don’t get their hands dirty personally, they still contribute to the broken system. Hajime’s just like them, a low rat who follows orders until the day his demise comes.

Once Hajime has safely made it back to his car on time, he double checks he’s turning in the right USB, and puts the personal away. He ignites the engine and drives to Seijoh-kai’s building to turn in the intel. The stress and worry is still there, along with fear, digging parts of his past he’s been trying to suppress for years. Hajime only hopes that he doesn’t cave in before he can solve the mystery.

\---

Hajime dabs alcohol on his wounds with a cotton swab, not flinching at the burn that comes with it. He’s had too many injuries during work, so naturally he just desensitizes to them. It’s a routine, get a call, get the job done, drop off the intel, and come home to treat his wounds. He doesn’t know when it had stopped being a job to turn into a coping mechanism that would allow him to feel something, but that is probably the only reason Hajime keeps doing it. There’s a rush of adrenaline, of dread and anxiousness that twists in his gut at the thought that one day, he might be the one who ends up with a bullet to the head. The only other thing that provided him a similar rush is Oikawa.

He knows it probably shouldn’t, not with the nature of their relationship and the dangers everything entailed. But it’s exactly that what makes it exciting. Hajime knows, that if someone outside a safe bubble were to find out, either of them could end up dead. It’s unlikely, with how careful the both of them are, but nonetheless the rush is there. It's vivid with every touch, every kiss, and every sound that comes from Oikawa. Hajime knows he’s treading deep waters, but Oikawa is like some new drug he has just found out about. It thrills him and scares him, because feelings like this could evolve into something more, something _caring_. But at the same time, Hajime’s had enough no-strings relationships to know that just like the rest, this intensity will eventually die out. So he doesn’t worry, or pay mind to their relationship, not as long as they’re on the same page about where they stand.

Hajime sighs and tosses another cotton ball into the floor. The cut on his shoulder is shallow, so Hajime only applies some ointment and decides to leave it like that, and as for the rest of tiny cuts on his arms, he leaves them as they are. Hajime stands up from the edge of his bathtub, groaning slightly as his joints pop loudly. He doesn’t bother cleaning up, opting to leave it as a problem for the next day or until his bathroom becomes too dirty to tolerate it. He walks out of the bathroom and heads into his room, straight to one of the drawers on his dresser. He pulls out several items, none of which he’s exactly proud of, but it’s the only method through which he can have a decent 3 or 4 hours of sleep. Hajime goes into the living room and sets the contents on the table silently, so he doesn’t wake Taro up.

He unzips the small case holding a syringe and a spoon and sets them out along with a lighter and a bag containing a white powder. Unlike most people, Hajime is smart enough to control his drug intake in order to avoid creating an addiction. It’s a far from healthy method to fight his insomnia, but it’s effective enough. Sleeping pills used to do the trick, until the nightmares got worse with time. Now, heroin at least manages to knock him out in a dreamless slumber. He usually only relies on it when exhaustion has accumulated too much. Hajime scoops some of the powder with the spoon and lights up the bottom part. Within a few minutes, the substance melts into a translucent liquid. Hajime picks up the syringe, pours the liquid inside and uncaps it. He knocks on the needle twice to get rid of the bubbles and sets it down. Next, he picks up an elastic band and wraps it around his left arm. Hajime picks up the syringe and takes a deep breath, injecting the needle into the inside of his elbow. He pushes the plunger and allows the liquid to seep into his bloodstream. He then throws the syringe on the table and unwraps the elastic band.

Within seconds, Hajime basks in the effect. Unlike coke, heroin doesn’t give him quite the rush or euphoric feeling. Instead, it relaxes his muscles and mushes his brain, allowing him to forcibly relax. Hajime leans back against the sofa and breathes out, clenching his fist slightly. Little by little, both the effect of the drug and the accumulation of exhaustion take over him, slipping him into a drowsy feeling. Hajime opts to lie down on the sofa, not even bothering to move to the bed. He drapes an arm over his eyes and waits for the drop that will allow him to sleep. And when it arrives, it is as smooth as usual, his eyelids dropping and his breath slowing little by little.

\---

“Nii-chan! Nii-chan!” a small voice exclaims, footsteps echoing through the small house and into the garden, where 14-year-old Hajime is currently picking out weeds. He straightens up, hand sweeping over the sweat on his face. His 10-year-old sister crashes against him, throwing his balance off slightly. Hajime grunts and pushes her away, though she seems too excited to care. A familiar warmth washes over him, laced with the strong need to protect his sister from any ill intentions.

“What is it Tomori?” Hajime asks, a soft smile on his face because his little sister being excited over something was a sight that always made him happy. Hajime takes out his gloves and leads his sister to sit by the shade of a tree, “what’s got you so excited now?”

“You won’t believe what I just got!” she exclaims, and it’s only then that Hajime realizes that Tomori is holding something between her hands. Hajime scratches his chin to act like he’s thinking hard about it, mostly to please his sister, who is staring at him with round eyes, “Come on nii-chan, try to guess it.”

“Is it some candy?” Hajime tries. He has no idea what could probably have his sister practically vibrating of happiness, and he’s aware that a candy is a far-fetched possibility, but it wouldn’t be fun if he took it too seriously. Tomori pouts at him and pinches his arm, making Hajime laugh. He decides to give this guessing game another try, “or perhaps it’s an insect you’ve caught?”

“Nii-chan! Take this seriously!” Tomori whines, tugging at Hajime’s arm sleeve. The older chuckles slightly, pinching his sister’s cheek only to upset her more. Tomori furrows her eyebrows and looks away, crossing her arms, “you know what? I’m not even gonna tell you anymore!”

She begins to stand up before Hajime catches her wrist and pulls her into his lap, hugging her tightly and keeping her there. Tomori struggles out of his grip, trying to wiggle her way out by elbowing Hajime’s ribs, but he doesn’t concede.

“Hey, I’m sorry! You can tell me; I want to see!” Hajime apologizes, trying to have his sister come around. Tomori stops struggling, but remains with a pouty face. Hajime feels a stab of guilt hit him, so he brings his sister closer and plants a small kiss on her cheek, “I’m sorry To-chan, can you tell me, please?”

Tomori sighs and nods. Hajime loses his grip on his sister, allowing her to sit more comfortably on his lap. Tomori opens up her hand, showing a small gold ring on it. Hajime notices the familiarity of the ring but he can’t pinpoint where he had seen it.

“It’s grandma’s,” Tomori tells him, a soft smile on her face, “It’s the engagement ring grandpa gave to her, and today, she gave it to me.”

“Can I see it?” Hajime asks her cautiously, extending his hand. Tomori nods and places the ring on his palm. Hajime brings it close to his face and examines it. For how old it is, the ring is in excellent condition, made out of white gold with a small stone embedded on the center. Hajime takes a hold of Tomori’s hand and looks at his sister, “May I?”

Tomori nods shyly, smiling as Hajime slips the ring into her right ring finger. It fits loosely, but still looks pretty against her complexion. Tomori stretches her hand out, watching how the ring reflects against the light.

“It looks good,” Hajime tells her. Tomori beams at him, delighted, before flopping against Hajime’s chest. Hajime leans back against the grass and allows himself to relax along with his sister.

“Hey nii-chan,” Tomori calls out after a few minutes. Hajime hums, eyes closed and with his hands behind his head as a makeshift pillow, “do you think I’d make a good wife?”

“What’s that question for?” Hajime questions, furrowing his eyebrows. He hears Tomori sigh before she rolls sideways, flopping down right next to Hajime. The older turns his head and opens his eyes to look at his sister, “isn’t it a little bit too early to think about marriage?”

“It’s just I’m wondering if someone would love me as much as grandpa loves grandma,” Tomori explains nonchalantly. Yet Hajime can sense the doubt in her voice, the same one that has plagued both of them after everything with their parents. Hajime turns to his side and smiles at Tomori.

“You’ll make the best wife in the world To-chan, I’m sure of it,” Hajime assures her, pure determination filtering his voice. Tomori looks at him in surprise, before breaking out into a full smile. Hajime matches her smile before turning on his back and closing his eyes. It is quiet with only the sound of rustling leaves and the soft brush of the wind.

“I don’t think that will happen,” Tomori says, just as Hajime begins dozing off. He sighs.

“Why would you say that?” Hajime asks, worried again at his sister’s behavior. It was unlike her to be like this.

“Because you broke your promise nii-chan,” Tomori explains but Hajime doesn’t understand what she refers to. What promise is she talking about? When did he break it? How? “you said you’d protect me.”

“What do you mean?” Hajime asks, he opens his eyes and turns to find his sister crying. There is a heart wrenching feeling settling inside himself as his stomach drops. What promise is Tomori referring to?

“YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE!” She yells, and even though she’s right in front of him, her voice is distant. Hajime begins to realize too, how his surroundings are darkening. He has no idea of what is happening, but right now the only thing occupying his mind was to stop his sister from crying, to stop them both from hurting, “Because of you, grandpa and grandma… because of you I…”

“To-chan?” Hajime calls out scared. He reaches his hand out to pull Tomori close to him, to keep her near, but at the same time he can’t. She’s too far away, yet too close all the same. Hajime can’t wrap his head around what is happening. He wants to protect Tomori, to soothe her down and tell her it’s all a nightmare, and that he’ll always be there for her, but the truth is that Hajime can’t tell if this nightmare is his rather than hers.

“Because of you we are all dead,” Tomori cries out just as she fades. Hajime stands up in panic and begins looking around, but he can’t see anything beyond the darkness of his surroundings. And as time passes, the more his fear grows. Suddenly, Hajime is in front of three corpses lying on the ground, three that he knows too well. He feels bile rise at the back of his throat, it’s all too much. His sister’s voice keeps haunting him except now it’s close, “You abandoned us!”

“No, no I didn-,” Hajime tries to explain. He wouldn’t, he would never purposely abandon anyone in his family. But he has, because if that wasn’t the case, then he wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be haunted with the memories of what was and what could’ve been.

“YOU ABANDONED US NIICHAN!” Tomori screams, pain lacing her voice in the way that twists Hajime’s heart beyond repair. Tears prickle on his eyes and the only thing he can do is desperately look around, but it’s too dark, too cold, and too void, “YOU SAID YOU’D ALWAYS BE THERE FOR ME!”

“To-chan!” Hajime pleads, falling to his knees. _I would never abandon you._ And yet he has.

“Now we’re all dead, and it’s all your fault!”

\---

Hajime wakes up with a start, cold sweat pooling at his forehead, and a cry on his lips. For a moment, the images are still hauntingly real. He sits up quickly and takes in his surroundings, realizing after a few seconds that he’s in his living room. He knows he’s crying, can feel the saltiness of the tears on the corners of his mouth, but he decides not to acknowledge it.

Taro is immediately by his side, eyes staring at Hajime with something he could only pinpoint as worry. Hajime moves to the side, allowing Taro to climb up on the sofa and settle his head on Hajime’s lap in a comforting gesture. It’s only when he’s about to pet his dog that Hajime realizes how much his hands are shaking. He clutches them tightly trying to will himself to calm down, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the vivid image and voices out of his head. It had been almost ten years, yet the nightmares haunting him had never once stopped, always too painful, and a constant reminder of his mistakes. They were one of the main reasons why Hajime couldn’t even sleep properly anymore.

Instead of calming down though, he feels the familiarity of a cage his walls form, always too tight to allow him some room to breathe. Hajime needs to get out, long enough to bring himself into a somewhat calm state. He eyes Taro, who looks tired from the day and could not possibly take a long walk outside. So Hajime discards that idea. He’s wondering whether it would be a good idea to drown his concern in alcohol, when his phone lights up with a notification. Hajime wonders if perhaps asking Oikawa to meet up would be a reasonable decision. He waits, until his screen goes back to black and decides to go for it. The younger could provide the best kind of distraction Hajime needed at the moment.

He dials Oikawa’s number, his leg bouncing in the wait. Hajime has to force it to stop and remind himself that if Oikawa didn’t answer, he could always find other methods to cope with the growing anxiety at the pit of his stomach. Oikawa picks up at the fourth ring.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, voice mildly raw with sleep. Suddenly, Hajime feels slightly guilty for calling the other, he knows it’s not like him to take irrational decisions such as this one, but at the same time, a part of him needs it, “It’s one thirty a.m.”

Hajime is aware of that, even without checking a clock it’s clear that it’s late. But Hajime pushes through a second stab of guilt, allowing his selfish desire to take over.

“I was wondering if you wanted to meet up,” he asks the younger, clearing his throat halfway through when he realizes his voice is still too shaky. The last things he wants is Oikawa catching on how unsettled Hajime is right now, which probably shows how much of a bad idea calling the younger is, so he takes a deep breath and speaks again, “but I think I woke you up so it’s okay anoth-.”

“No, it’s okay!” Oikawa exclaims, perhaps a little too loud it makes Hajime wince. He hears Oikawa curse under his breath before speaking up once again, this time softer, “same hotel?”

Hajime’s breath is caught on his throat. He wasn’t really expecting Oikawa to answer (though a part of him desperately wanted him to), let alone agree to meet up for sex. But this was a chance he wasn’t going to let pass by.

“Yeah, same hotel,” Hajime replies, Oikawa hums and hangs up. Hajime stays in the same position, briefly wondering why he keeps capriciously meeting with the danger that is Oikawa Tooru. There is so much at risk, so much that could go wrong, and even the chance of feelings getting involved. But the way Oikawa made him feel was like a drug, and sometimes, Hajime became a borderline addict, drawing in too close. He just hopes that this time he doesn’t give in into something he’ll definitely regret.

\--

Tooru knocks on the door twice, nerves thrumming with anticipation. There was something off about Iwaizumi, he could easily guess by the slight tremor in his voice during their call. It was probably the only reason why he had agreed to meet up despite it being almost 2 in the morning. Tooru clenches his fist by his side, trying to be patient. He thinks about knocking again when Iwaizumi finally opens.

Tooru’s about to greet the other when he’s harshly pulled into the room, and just as the door closes Iwaizumi’s lips are on his. It’s a desperate kiss, not unlike any of the ones they’ve previously shared during their previous nights together, but at the same time, there was something unsettling about it. Iwaizumi’s hands were cradling Tooru’s face in a mildly strong hold. It wasn’t painful, but Tooru could easily tell how on edge and tense he was.

So, Tooru does the only thing he can and distracts him. Whether it’s with sex or anything else, he’ll try to pull Iwaizumi away from whatever he’s dealing with at the moment. Not because it’s Iwaizumi, but because it is in Tooru’s nature to help others, even with something like this.

Tooru guides them across the room, briefly breaking away from the kiss to breathe before coming back full force, taking the lead. He slides his hands under Iwaizumi’s shirt, nails scraping softly over his skin as he pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the side. Iwaizumi’s knees hit the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit on it. Tooru straddles his legs, his hands coming up to bury themselves in Iwaizumi’s hair while the other secures his own on Tooru’s hips tightly. The kiss becomes messier, lips chasing after each other. Iwaizumi bites down on Tooru’s bottom lip, pulling it slightly and drawing a soft whine out of him. The older pulls away and takes Tooru’s shirt off, discarding it with the rest of the clothes. Tooru dives in and begins trailing his lips along Iwaizumi’s jaw and down his neck, sucking small bruises into his tawny skin. Iwaizumi’s hands slip past the waistband of Tooru’s jeans to cup his ass, kneading it with his finger. Tooru suppresses a soft moan against Iwaizumi’s skin, opting to grind his hips down onto both of their growing erections, making Iwaizumi groan.

As Tooru continues his way down, he begins slowly pushing Iwaizumi down onto the bed, until he’s fully laying on his back, still holding onto Tooru’s ass. Tooru sits up, sliding his hands all over Iwaizumi’s torso, feeling each muscle twitch and flex under his touch, mapping every bit of skin with his fingers.

“Have I ever told you that I really like your tattoos?” Tooru asks, voice dropping by a little. He traces the waves that pattern both of Iwaizumi’s sides, following them down to the waistband of his jeans. Tooru undoes the button and urges Iwaizumi to scoot up on the bed. Iwaizumi complies, granting Tooru more space on the mattress.

“You haven’t,” Iwaizumi replies with a hoarse voice, watching Tooru intently as he traces the waves patterned onto his skin.

“Well, I _really_ do like them,” Tooru states before diving down. He begins licking a trail down the other’s body, following the lines of ink that cover the majority of his torso. Tooru can feel Iwaizumi’s muscles contract as he works down, feeling the slight saltiness of sweat mix into his senses. He continues his way until he’s right at the beginning of Iwaizumi’s jeans. He pulls on the fabric, little by little revealing patches of skin, dragging out the moment as slow as he can. Iwaizumi is staring right at Tooru, watching his every move. It only serves as more motivation for the younger to continue his ministrations. Once he’s dragged the other’s jeans enough, he begins sucking on the juncture of Iwaizumi’s hip, following his v-line with the same process. Iwaizumi’s hands come down to tangle themselves into Tooru’s hair, scratching his scalp softly. Tooru stops right above Iwaizumi’s boxers, his hand cupping his cock and giving it a small stroke, making Iwaizumi’s hands tighten in Tooru’s hair. Tooru looks up at the other and gives him a wink before licking up his clothed erection.

“Oikawa, don’t be a tease,” Iwaizumi tells him, pulling at his hair. Tooru hums in compliance and grips the waistband of Iwaizumi’s boxers and pulls them down. Tooru wraps his hand around Iwaizumi’s cock, stroking it a few times before wrapping his lips around the tip and going down on him at once, ripping a moan out of the older. Tooru doesn’t waste time, bobbing his head and coordinating his hands to stroke what he can’t take, trying to pleasure Iwaizumi as much as he can. Tooru looks up at Iwaizumi, whose eyes are closed, eyebrows scrunched up. He’s letting out soft moans of encouragement, his hands sometimes pulling Tooru’s hair or pushing him down deeper. Tooru fastens his pace, feeling the head of Iwaizumi’s cock hit his throat, as he swallows around it making Iwaizumi moan louder.

“O-Oikawa stop,” Iwaizumi says between ragged breaths, pulling at Tooru’s hair to pull him away. The younger bobs his head a few times before pulling out with a lewd ‘pop’ and looking at Iwaizumi with an arched eyebrow, “come here.”

Tooru goes down and licks a stripe up Iwaizumi’s cock, from the base to the tip, before taking it into his mouth and bobbing down once more. He pulls away and crawls up to the other, kissing Iwaizumi fervently. The older swipes his tongue along Tooru’s bottom lip, coaxing him open and pushing his tongue inside and licking into Tooru’s mouth.

Tooru’s too distracted to notice Iwaizumi gripping his sides, so he’s not expecting it when Iwaizumi flips them over, putting Tooru under him. Tooru breaks away from the kiss with a surprised giggle. Iwaizumi follows with a soft chuckle, pulling away to reach on the bedside table for the bottle of lube. He kicks out of his jeans and takes Tooru’s off, along with his underwear. Meanwhile Iwaizumi uncaps the bottle of lube, Tooru lifts one of his leg to wrap it around Iwaizumi’s hip, purging him closer.

“Impatient aren’t we?” he says with a small smirk. Tooru rolls his eyes with a smile and wraps his other leg too. Iwaizumi settles between his legs.

“C’mon Iwa-chan, make me feel good,” Tooru taunts as Iwaizumi’s fingers graze against his hole. Tooru hisses at the coldness of the lube just as Iwaizumi inserts one finger in, waiting for Tooru to adjust. Once he gives him the go, Iwaizumi inserts another finger, moving them in and out, stretching at the muscle. He continues, adding a third finger, while the younger’s legs tighten around his hips. Once Tooru is ready, he grabs a condom packet, using his teeth to rip it open. He slides it over his cock and picks up one of Tooru’s legs, draping it over his shoulder and pressing himself closer. He pushes his cock past the ring of muscle, entering Tooru slowly. Both moan in unison, Tooru’s arms come up to wrap around Iwaizumi’s shoulder, his nails raking over the taut skin.

“I’m ready, just do it,” Tooru urges, eyes shut tightly and lips parted. Iwaizumi complies, pulling away and snapping his hips forward. He begins building a pace, using his other hand to pull Tooru’s legs apart and thrusting in deeper. Tooru begins messily pressing wet kisses on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, moaning encouragingly on his ear. He lets go one of his arms to use it to cover his face, but Iwaizumi beats him to it, lacing his fingers with Tooru and pinning his hand against the bed.

“I want to see you,” Iwaizumi says between breaths, pressing his lips against Tooru’s jaw before pulling away, “show me how good I make you feel.”

Tooru feels himself being reduced to a puddle by the older. Iwaizumi’s pace is relentless, fucking into him fervently. Tooru pushes back with equal eagerness, chasing his release. His free leg is tightly wrapped around Iwaizumi’s hip, pushing him deeper. His hands come up to grab Iwaizumi’s face to bring him into a kiss, teeth clanking slightly and messily. Iwaizumi reaches between them to stroke Tooru’s cock on pace with his thrusts. It’s what tips him over the edge, biting strongly on Iwaizumi’s bottom lip as he comes, the older swallowing down his moans. He strokes Tooru through his orgasm, before letting go in chase of his own release.

“You’re so good to me,” Tooru whispers, pressing messy kisses all over Iwaizumi’s jaw, “c’mon Iwa-chan, come.”

Iwaizumi groans as he comes, thrusting until he rides his orgasm out. He pulls out and takes out the condom, throwing it into the trash before collapsing right beside Tooru, both completely breathless and sated. 

\---

Tooru watches from the bed, cradled only in his bathrobe, as Iwaizumi begins changing back into his clothes, freshly showered. Despite having been the first one to shower, Tooru had opted to laze around on the bed, not feeling like going home just yet. Besides, it was around 3:30 a.m., he might as well stay the night. Iwaizumi on the other hand, is ready to leave. Tooru notices how relaxed he looks, not anything like how he sounded over the phone when he had first called Tooru, or when he had opened the door to their hotel room a few hours prior. Still, Tooru preferred to keep the older around a bit longer, just to make sure he was truly okay. He didn’t necessarily care, but it was in Tooru’s nature to help anyone who needed it.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” he calls out right as he sits up on the bed.

“What?” Iwaizumi demands, grunting as he struggles to put on his jeans. Tooru stares at him amused, before flopping back onto the bed.

“Do you have to work today?” Tooru asks, not bothering to look at Iwaizumi. The older stops his motions and looks at Tooru, eyebrows rising at the question.

“No, I already did it,” Iwaizumi says simply, shrugging. Tooru briefly wonders if that had to do with how on edge Iwaizumi seemed. Tooru sighs, pondering whether he should voice out loud his current idea. It probably wouldn’t get a good reaction out of Iwaizumi, but still, Tooru had to give it a try. He sits up to look at the other.

“Then, why don’t you stay?” Tooru suggests hesitantly, voice lowering in fear of getting yelled at. It’s not that Iwaizumi’s answer matters that much to him, he just hopes he’s not crossing boundaries in their relationship. He watches as the older tenses up.

“what?” Iwaizumi question, his eyebrows furrowing deeper. Tooru fears that perhaps he might’ve upset the other, but Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to lash out at him or calling him stupid, “why?”

“You look exhausted,” Tooru reasons, shrugging nonchalantly, it didn’t take a genius to realize that Iwaizumi was wearing down. Tooru didn’t know what was going on in the other’s life, and he didn’t want to find out. But if he had helped Iwaizumi relax once, he was going to make sure to try it again.

“Ummm,” Iwaizumi drones, seeming slightly uncomfortable. It makes Tooru want to coil or rush out because that’s the last thing he wants to make the other feel. Nonetheless, he tries to be brave, and reasons with the other.

“We pay for a hotel every week, the least we can do is stay the night,” Tooru begins, because it’s true. None of them lack in money, but it would be nice to relax after sex instead of scrambling to get away from each other every time. Iwaizumi looks at Tooru, still dubious before looking at his shirt, still lying on the floor.

“At least just thirsty minutes!” Tooru blurts out, cringing at how he almost sounded desperate. It’s not like it’d be the end of the world if Iwaizumi said no, but he’s a good company and he needs to relax. Besides, Tooru doesn’t want to go home yet.

Iwaizumi sighs, almost defeated, yet the way his shoulders relax tell Tooru that he’s not actually mad. Despite knowing each other a little over a month and a half he feels like he can tell most of Iwaizumi’s switches in moods and cues. The older is by no means an open book, but he allows his walls to fall a little around Tooru. Iwaizumi takes off his pants, discarding them on the floor and walks over to the bed. Tooru offers him a small smile as he scoots to make Iwaizumi space.

“Only thirty minutes,” Iwaizumi establishes firmly, extending his arm for Tooru to move closer. The younger had half expected it to be awkward in some sense, but it’s not. Tooru rests his hand over Iwaizumi’s chest, following the patterns of ink absentmindedly. His head is nestled on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, right on the juncture between his neck and arms. Iwaizumi breathes out deeply before turning his head to the side to bury his nose in Tooru’s hair.

“Isn’t this too intimate for our arrangement?” Iwaizumi questions as he pulls away, he opts to run his fingers through Tooru’s hair, still slightly damp from his previous shower. Tooru stops his hand and just hums.

“Maybe, but after everything we’ve done, I don’t think a little bit of intimacy would hurt,” Tooru reasons. He closes his eyes, basking in the calmness of the room. It’s true though, they know each other intimately to a certain extent. Not in a romantic way, but enough to let down their barriers by a little around each other, “besides, it’s not like any of us is going to catch feelings, I don’t plan on getting more involved with the yakuza than I already am.”

Iwaizumi grunts in agreement, shifting a little to accommodate his position. Tooru remains with his hand over the other’s chest, his fingers now carefully going over Iwaizumi’s scars. Some of them are small, almost unnoticeable under the blanket of tattoos that cover the expanse of Iwaizumi’s torso, while others are bigger, more recent. There are a few smaller cuts along Iwaizumi’s arms which Tooru would guess are from today. His eyes finally land on the bigger cut on his shoulder, it’s not deep, but Tooru wonders if Iwaizumi had taken the proper time to treat it.

“I did,” Iwaizumi comments as if reading Tooru’s mind. The younger huffs and retracts his hand back to Iwaizumi’s chest. It’s then when something catches his eye. It’s a necklace, one Tooru had never seen Iwaizumi wear before. He thumbs at the necklace, lying against Iwaizumi’s skin and notices how the older tenses up immediately. It has a gold ring attached with a single stone embedded into it, the design is very simple yet somehow still beautiful. The metal is cold against his fingers as he examines it, Iwaizumi grunts to get Tooru’s attention.

“What are you doing?” The older asks, eyebrows furrowing in his trademark look. Tooru looks at him and then back at the ring, a heavy weight setting on the pit of his stomach. He’s aware that he’s making Iwaizumi uncomfortable, but there’s something he needs to know.

“Are you married?” Tooru asks, because that’s the only logical reason he could come up with regarding the piece of jewelry hanging around Iwaizumi’s neck. Iwaizumi looks down at the ring, still between Tooru’s fingers and then back at the younger.

“I’m not,” Iwaizumi says simply, yet Tooru can recognize the truth to it. He relaxes, letting the ring go and going back to follow the patterns of ink that make up Iwaizumi’s tattoos. The older relaxes too, running his fingers through Tooru’s hair once again. Tooru bites his lip, wondering if he should ask Iwaizumi the inquiry that came up after his answer. Tooru sighs, feeling slightly guilty about it.

“Who’s is it?” He asks, hoping his voice doesn’t show the strong curiosity he’s feeling. Iwaizumi hums, his fingers stilling on Tooru’s head. Tooru watches his jaw clench, and fears for a moment that he might have crossed a line. Iwaizumi sighs and looks at Tooru questioningly.

“Why would you want to know? It’s not like we’re close or anything,” he says dismissively, continuing to run his fingers through Tooru’s hair, scratching his scalp in a surprisingly soothing way. The younger huffs, burying his head on the crook of

“Just curious,” Tooru mumbles. Tooru doesn’t care about the ring itself, he really doesn’t. What he does care about is whether he’s interfering with some girlfriend or boyfriend Iwaizumi might have but Tooru doesn’t know about. It’s not who Tooru is or the morals he has. It’s unlikely in Iwaizumi’s line of work, but not exactly impossible. He doesn’t know Iwaizumi personally, so Tooru isn’t sure what kind of morals Iwaizumi holds, especially with the kind of work he does. But for now, he’ll trust the other.

Iwaizumi hums and they both remain silent. Iwaizumi’s hand moves from Tooru’s hair to run his hands along his back, almost comfortingly. Tooru suppresses a small smile, and goes back to tracing figures on Iwaizumi’s chest. It always amazed him that part of the yakuza system, the tattoos and their meanings. How most members truly believed in the protection they could bring. He wonders if perhaps, Iwaizumi has some kind of reasoning or belief behind his own one. It’s the type of question Tooru knows he’ll never know the answer to because that’s not them. They don’t share personal information, never should and never will.

His hands unconsciously move again to inspect the cut on the other’s arm. He blames it on his doctoral instincts instead of genuine worry for the older. It doesn’t matter how awful Iwaizumi is as a person or how many wrong deeds he has done, Tooru would never want him to suffer some form of infection due to the kind of work he does. Especially in the kind of field he operates.

“Did you really-,” Tooru begins, ready to scold him because it doesn’t look to him like Iwaizumi has taken proper care of that wound, when he’s immediately interrupted by him.

“Yes, I’ve taken care of it,” the older says, emphasizing each word. He cranes his head to look at Tooru with furrowed eyebrows, face full of sarcastic disbelief, “what would you know about it?”

“Hey! I _am_ a doctor you know,” Tooru whines, his lips jutting out into a petulant pout. Iwaizumi snorts in amusement, shaking his head slightly. 

“You’re about to become one,” the older corrects, pinching Tooru’s side and making him yelp. Tooru huffs and rolls his eyes, “you still don’t have your title do you?”

“But I have the knowledge,” Tooru grumbles, digging his nails into Iwaizumi’s skin softly. The older laughs, turning his head to the side. Tooru looks up at the sound, eyes round in slight amazement. He’s probably never heard Iwaizumi laugh until now. It’s a nice sound, quite deep and raspy. He seems to be in a better mood now compared to when he had first called Tooru to hook up. Tooru smiles at the thought, he doesn’t like to see Iwaizumi upset. 

The realization makes Tooru’s stomach twist up, and he has to remind himself that Iwaizumi is just a stranger he knows on a sexual level, not acquaintances or anything of the like.

“What are you planning on specializing?” Iwaizumi asks him once he’s calmed down. It’s a question Tooru still has trouble answering. After the talk he had with his father, he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to pursue orthopedics anymore. Not without some strong convincing first. It doesn’t matter how careless his father is, if it’s a matter involving the Aobajohsai-gumi, his father would carefully plan things through. And Tooru was more than sure that his specialization would be just another tool in the scheme. Tooru bites his lip.

“Orthopedics, and pediatrics, probably,” Tooru tells Iwaizumi. For now, it’s the truth, and it might become a permanent one if he manages to convince his father. Iwaizumi scrunches his eyebrows at Tooru, who raises an eyebrow at the older, “what?” It comes out quite defensive, but then again, he didn’t need Iwaizumi’s criticism regarding his career choice.

“Nothing, it’s just I would’ve pegged you like the type to choose to become a surgeon or cardiologist or some shit like that,” Iwaizumi explains, waving his hand dismissively. The way he says it is soft and careful, as if trying not to upset Tooru upon sensing his distress on the matter. “Why orthopedics though?”

“Oh, what is this? Is Iwa-chan interested in me now?” Tooru taunts, lips pulling into a teasing smirk. He turns on his stomach to peer up at the other. Iwaizumi scoffs and looks away, eyebrows furrowing, Tooru reaches out a hand to smooth the crease between his eyes, “I thought we weren’t close enough to ask these things.”

“You know what? Forget I asked,” Iwaizumi says, turning his head back to Tooru to throw him a small glare. Tooru laughs at the other as he lays his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He remains silent for a while, not sure if sharing something like that with Iwaizumi would be a good idea. In the end though, he gives in. Nobody knows Tooru’s reasoning behind it, after all, most people did expect him to become a surgeon of some sort. It was mildly upsetting, but it was the way his life had been shaped ever since he was born.

“When I was in high school, I used to play volleyball,” Tooru begins, not meeting Iwaizumi’s surprised stare on purpose. The other remains silent though, attentive to what Tooru has to say, “but then, halfway into my third year I tore my ACL and well, it was game over for me.” 

Tooru grimaces at the memory. The months to follow his injury had been tough ones. After his mother’s death, Tooru had found some semblance of comfort in the sport, which led him to constantly push himself through it. It was like a thread he kept pulling at, hoping it didn’t snap. Yet with the constant training, the pressure of being the best (because he always had to be the best), and the lack of resting, the thread eventually snapped. Although the doctors said he might be able to play again, Tooru knew it was over for him. He had never planned to take volleyball beyond high school. After all, he was going to either end up working for his father or as a doctor. Now, his years of playing volleyball are like a bittersweet memory in his mind, and something he sometimes wishes he could go back to.

“I guess that my desire to become an orthopedist roots from that,” Tooru concludes. Iwaizumi stays silent, not offering his opinion or words of comfort, which Tooru appreciates. Usually, whenever Tooru revealed something too personal about his life, people would try to comfort him in hopes of disguising their pity. And he hates it, more than anything. So it’s a relief that Iwaizumi seems to understand that Tooru doesn’t need to be hugged or taken care of.

“When are you going back to the hospital?” Iwaizumi asks. It’s not a completely unrelated topic, but Tooru mentally thanks him for the change of topic.

“On Monday,” he tells him and Iwaizumi hums in understanding. Prior to his call, Tooru had been reading the documents and files Arima had sent him beforehand, trying to get as ready as possible. He wasn’t by any means a bad intern, but Tooru always loved helping Arima as much as he could even if he wasn’t officially a doctor yet. This distraction was something he needed though.

They remain quiet, only the sound of their breaths mingling. Tooru can feel the rise and fall of Iwaizumi’s chest under his hand, and along with that, he can hear the faint sound of his heartbeat. If Tooru thinks about it, he would’ve never believed to find himself in a situation such as this: near snuggling with one of the deadliest men alive. Though he had decided to separate both for now, his conscience would recede a little about the fact that he’s doing things that go against his moral grounds. He can allow himself this one guilty pleasure. Even if it backfires and comes back to bite it, Tooru resolves that he’ll prepare for the consequences.

Little by little, the calmness begins seeping into his bones, washing into the exhaustion he had felt earlier. Tooru realizes that it’s probably around four a.m. now, and with everything they’ve done, he just wants to sleep. Iwaizumi hasn’t said anything about leaving yet, so he’ll indulge himself if only for a small amount of time. Tooru accommodates his head into Iwaizumi’s shoulder, his hand finally stilling and resting in the middle of the other’s chest. He takes a deep breath, relaxing immediately after he releases it. Tooru closes his eyes.

“Oi, Oikawa, don’t fall asleep on me now,” Iwaizumi calls out, but his voice is soft, almost whispering as if not to startle the younger. Tooru grunts, but doesn’t provide a response. He just wants a few minutes more of the warmth around him, a few more minutes with Iwaizumi around. The other sighs and slightly accommodates himself into a better position for both of them. Still, he tries to shake Tooru out of his stupor, “I’m serious, we’d agreed on 30 minutes.”

“I’m so tired though,” Tooru murmurs. If he goes home now, he knows his mind won’t let him rest until he has gone over all the papers at least two or three times. But being here with Iwaizumi gives him an excuse to let his mind rest before he’s thrown back into the frenzied (but nonetheless thrilling) life at the hospital. His schedule will probably make meeting Iwaizumi harder, but Tooru hopes they can eventually reach some middle ground and schedule something that would work great for them. After all, stress will surely stack up quickly.

Iwaizumi looks down at Tooru for a few seconds before sighing, defeated, a small flash of guilt crossing his eyes. The older brings Tooru closer, allowing him to fully use his shoulder as a pillow. Tooru turns slightly to his side and snuggles closer, getting as much warmth as possible from the other.

“Only twenty minutes,” Iwaizumi tells him with a grunt. Tooru smiles and presses a kiss against Iwaizumi’s shoulder as a gesture of gratefulness. He slowly begins drifting back to sleep easily, feeling the pads of Iwaizumi’s fingers running against his back.

When Tooru wakes up a few hours later, it’s to a too brightly lit room, empty sheets, and a lack of warmth by his side. He guesses that Iwaizumi probably left after Tooru had fallen asleep and opted not to wake him up. Tooru smiles unconsciously, it's small but it’s pretty considerate coming from someone like Iwaizumi who’s naturally rough and serious in general. At the same time though, Tooru has to remind himself that it’s not something he should expect. Neither the cuddles nor the staying the night. Nonetheless, a small part of him secretly hopes it’s something that could happen in the nearby future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut was probably where I was stuck at the most (*/_＼) so I apologize if it isn't as good. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Kudos, comments and shares are very much appreciated!!
> 
> Well, until next chapter! ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/squeakyotter)


End file.
